


Bad luck

by Sylvantess



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Big Bad Hawke is an emotional klutz, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Loss of Virginity, Mental and emotional rollercoaster, Slow Build, Tragedy from the past, Yes she's even worse than Fenris
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylvantess/pseuds/Sylvantess
Summary: Because I can't have enough of Fenris. And I saw this awesome mod where he looks bloody gorgeous. I'll add screenshots into the story, maybe. If you wish, that is.I wanted to turn the tables between F!Hawke and Fenris regarding emotional involvement, so this is the result of my momentary inspiration.





	1. The case of Invisible Undies

"So, when are you going to pounce?"

Hawke was deep in thought about the viscount and Chantry fanatics and the Qunari. In the back of her mind she knew that she wasn't supposed to bother with this while hanging out with her friend and supposedly relaxing, which is why she managed to hear Isabela's question. Behind her cheery and light facade, she was actually a worrywart and feared that it might show. She didn't want that. No one likes worrywarts. Aveline was downright insufferable with that feat most of the time.

"What?" Hawke looked around. "Is someone bothering you?" The pathetic poet instantly came to mind, but he obviously wasn't in the Hanged Man today.

Isabela made a face which ambiguously implied at annoyance, amusement and pity at the same time. "No one is bothering me, goose. Besides, if that were the case I would have handled it myself. Your protectiveness is sweet, however", she stretched a seductive smile and took a swig from her cup.

Hawke knew that Isabela's flirting was a natural thing, so she wasn't alarmed. Not like when they first met. Hawke had learned long ago how to play cool and go with the sassy attitude, and the alarm didn't show. It _never_ showed.

She had to visit the Blooming Rose again. Maybe even this evening.

"I mean the elf who doesn't wear undies", Isabela wiggled her black, curvy eyebrows.

Hawke's stream of thought had slammed into a dam. "Who?"

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you hadn't figured it out."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Isabela leaned forward. "I've tried every friggin' color I could think of, Hawke. Fenris doesn't lie, he's too... Whachacallit... Stoic?" She pondered for a moment in an intoxicated haze. "It's a warrior thing", she waved off, apparently settling with that conclusion. "Anyway, I'm sure of it. He doesn't wear underclothes at all!"

Hawke was stupefied to the point where she only managed to blink several times. The ale was catching up on her as well, so she couldn't think of any smart retort. All she could think of in that moment was...what she tried  _so_ hard not to think of at all. Her insides quivered traitorously.

"Yeeeeahhh, you're imagining it", Isabela drawled victoriously.

Still mute, Hawke took a big gulp of her ale. It didn't help.

"I know a connection when I see it", the dusky pirate smiled knowingly. "You should pounce on that unconstrained, tight ass."

The blood rushed into Hawke's face. "Are you insane?!?"

"I've been labeled worse", Isabela shrugged. "I wouldn't have any second thoughts if I were you."

"You're _not_ me", Hawke's voice took on an edge. "You're not an apostate. You're not the very embodiment of everything Fenris hates."

"Oh, give me a break", Isabela slammed her cup on the table, the ale sloshing out. "He's bloody  _eating_ you with his eyes. You two are way past that magic conflict thing, anyone could see that."

"You're delusional. And crazy."

"I am extremely perceptive and you know it. Duelist, remember?"

"You're still crazy."

"But perceptive."

"We're not talking about this anymore."

"Okay, then we'll talk about Carver's underclothes."

"Oh, Maker."

Hawke knew that Isabela was occasionally visiting Carver in the Gallows ever since he became a templar. They had a "thing" before the Deep Roads expedition and apparently it had continued. The biggest wonder of all was the exclusiveness on her part, which is why Hawke decided not to interfere in their...whatever it was. Even though Carver had practically betrayed Hawke by joining the templar order, she still loved her brother and had an overprotective urge as ever.

"He used to be a really prim boy", Isabela delved into fulfilling her threat, much to Hawke's dismay. "Plain white undies. How dull is that? I mean, he's your brother, couldn't you influence him a bit?"

Hawke gave her a look which would usually make a lesser person shit their pants.

She may have looked sweet when she was younger, but time has taken its toll. The color of her eyes was an awkward mix of green and blue, and she had a vine-like tattoo surrounding her pale neck in the matching tone. A few worry lines gave her eyes prominence, along with curvy eyebrows which fortunately refused to give in to discoloring of her hair. Hawke's hair was long and voluminous, nearly reaching her waist in the back...and nearly white, with only several dark strands here and there. The discoloring of her normal ash brown hair had begun around the time when tragedies started happening. Hawke had signed off this occurrence as something to do with her being a mage. Overall, people had dubbed her beautiful...and bloody scary.

That didn't faze Isabela, however.

"Glare all you want, I've already taken care of the problem. You know, I made him panties with only a string of cloth in the back--"

"Too much fucking information, Isabela!!!", Hawke yelled so loudly that a drunk sleeping at the table beside them had jumped from his slumber and fell off the bench onto the floor.

Isabela blinked innocently. "So we're back to Fenris's underclothes, then?"

"I'm going home."

Hawke bolted from her chair and circled the table, without sparing a glance to the insufferable pirate. Before she managed to move away, Isabela grabbed her forearm in a steel vise, halting her advance.

"Hawke, I know you like him, and you like him  _a lot._ I just can't understand why a bold person like you would shy away from advancing, especially when the attraction goes both ways. I know you're going to the Blooming Rose now and Maker knows I'm fine with that, but you can have something of substance here. If I'm wrong, then help me understand why you're so damn beaten whenever the topic of Fenris comes up."

Hawke wavered. Isabela's bright amber eyes looking so honest and concerned was a rare sight to say the least, which is why she nearly gave in.  _Nearly._ She yanked her arm from Isabela's grasp, as gently as she could, and then patted the pretty brunette on the shoulder.

"Thank you for the concern, Izzy. Let me know if you get a wind of the Relic's trail."

Without thinking about anything further, Hawke headed to the Blooming Rose.


	2. Shitvalanche on Sundermount, pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, let's stomp on Hawke's nerves in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to make a big chapter, so I've split it into two parts.

"Hawke, I heard that Rivaini has transferred her Blooming Rose account to you."

Accustomed to unpleasant surprises, Hawke only slightly stumbled in her steady ascend on one of the steep paths of the west side of Sundermount. She didn't have to turn around to see that Fenris tensed at these words. She bloody  _felt_ it, and didn't rightly know if she was thrilled or horrified that she could feel the changes in his mood more and more intensely in the past month or so. Or did it gradually evolve in the past years, ever since they have met? Did it go both ways? Sometimes she could have sworn that it did, because he acted on it in the form of support - more and more often that the confrontation. And that was...strange. And why in the Void did Varric have to voice that remark  _now???_

"What of it?", she asked coolly. Hopefully coolly.

"I'm just...worried, is all", Varric suddenly sounded insecure.

"About what?" Hawke knew she should let it go for the sake of presence of certain parties, but her irritation got the better of her.

"Hawke, it's not exactly healthy to visit the, ah, workers at the brothel so frequently." This time it was Sebastian. 

_Just great. Why don't you guys team up and make a pincushion outta me while you're at it?_

"Speaking from experience, I assume?", she bit off, faintly turning in Sebastian's general direction.

The ensuing silence told her volumes about how she went too far with that. She made a grimace and mouthed a soundless "Shit". But she was still pissed enough to avoid apologizing.

"Your private life is your business, Hawke, but I have to agree with them."

This time it was Aveline.  _A nice, big longsword to join the fray of bolts and arrows in my back. This keeps getting better and better. I'm expecting a certain greatsword to seal the deal anytime now._

"Aside from the matter of your health, there is also your reputation. You're a noble now, and an influential one at that. If you weren't my friend, I would think twice before inviting you to help with this matter today. Your actions speak more of a reckless tramp than a person of integrity."

Hawke inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly and audibly. That helped with calming her nerves. They were simply concerned. They were her friends. And why was she so irritated to begin with anyway? Frequenting the Blooming Rose was her conscious choice and she was aware of the consequences. People would eventually start talking, and they probably talked already behind her back. Maybe that is why Mother has been persistently nagging her with matchmaking and finding a suitable husband. She instantly cringed from the very thought.

"Thanks guys, but I don't need multiple mothers to tell me how to behave."

"No, you need to get your shit together", suddenly Aveline grabbed her shoulder and swirled her around, forcing Hawke to face her. That woman was preposterously strong. "I'm not talking about whoring only. Lately you're out of it, Hawke. You're chatting with the Arishok about philosophy instead arbitrating for the people of the city. You're ignoring the viscount's summons. Some people think that you've converted to the Qun! I know that it's not true, but it's there! I'm sure I don't need to tell you how Chantry fanatics will react. You used to have a strong sense of responsibility, which is why I have always respected you! I hate to even think about it, but the only thing that comes to mind is that you have performed some dubious ritual with Isabela and switched personalities with her!"

"Andraste's ass, my thoughts exactly", Varric exhaled.

Hawke stepped two paces away, looking at her companions. They were all fully focused on her, aside from Fenris who stood sideways with his arms crossed and looked at her in a way she couldn't distinguish. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself...and hadn't defended her.  _And there goes the greatsword, straight through my chest._

She shook her head.  _When did I become so pathetic?_ She shouldn't be defended. Aveline was right about everything she said.

Hawke placed her hands on her hips and huffed through the nose. "There are no bandits on the cliffs, am I right? We're out here so you could confront me about all this shit. And if I snapped and started throwing fireballs around in anger, at least we weren't in the city where I would have done damage."

Aveline tilted her head a bit. "I wouldn't have said it exactly like that...but yes."

Hawke's jaw clenched at the notion of so much built up distrust. "What about Isabela, Merrill and Anders? They're our friends, they should also have had a go at me while we're at it."

"We're not attacking you, Hawke", Sebastian replied in his 'brother of the Chantry' tone. "We're trying to help."

Hawke wished she could have bitten back a retort, but she still felt guilty for unwittingly poking Sebastian about his forsaken lifestyle.

"Rivaini said, and I quote, 'I'm done with my share of Hawke's crap'", Varric responded to her previous question. "Daisy was against the whole thing and claimed the situation wasn't that bad. But Hawke, trust me when I say that it is. Daisy is soft-hearted to the point of being clueless and you know it."

"Thank you for making my case for me, Varric", Hawke said icily. "And Anders?"

"Blondie told me he's doing regular health check-ups on you and that you're perfectly fine. We all know this isn't merely about your health, but he insisted that we're butting in more than we should."

"Then I'm sorry that he isn't here. At least I'd have _someone_ in my defense."

 _Speaking of defense._ Hawke switched her attention to Fenris, with no small trepidation.

"How about you?"

"Varric invited me", he shrugged. "I was told the same 'bandits on the cliffs' story as you were."

She glanced at Varric, and immediately gathered he had spoken to Isabela about the argument at the Hanged Man from several days ago. Fenris was brought with the sole purpose of cornering her even further. And it was blighted working.

"Well, you're here regardless. You've heard the accusations. It's only fair to say what you think as well."

Hawke kept her cool, as always. Inwardly, every single nerve in her body was aflame while Fenris's bright eyes zeroed on hers.

It would have been an understatement if Hawke said she liked Fenris's appearance and overall posture. She  _reveled_ in it. She's never been particularly attracted to elves before he appeared in her life, but his racial origin wasn't key when it came to attraction. It was... _everything_ about him. His dark skin lined in lyrium, the testimony of his sheer strength and endurance, was practically mouthwatering. Hawke would've lied if she claimed that she wasn't curious about how that skin would taste and feel. Would it be sweetly metallic and invigorating like the lyrium potion?  _Perhaps like chocolate with lyrium filling._ And yes, she felt insanely guilty for thinking of him as a treat when he suffered unimaginably to sustain that "filling". Fenris's lean body was also incredibly powerful, and the spiky armor he preferred to wear was more of a statement on his part than real protection. Whatever it was, it suited him and accented his beauty. And then there was the strength of his mind. He was scarred by slavery and hatred towards mages, but he was there - an apostate's companion. And she knew he wouldn't have been there at all if he hadn't trusted her. She had also sensed some twisted kinship to him when she had found out why his hair was white: the product of pain mixed with magic, so very similar to her experience. And despite everything, he still had a firm attitude, a kind heart and overall a mindset which she appreciated.

But she couldn't have him. She would never have him and that was fine, albeit painful. She could live with painful. Soul-shattering was out of the question.

No one has shaken her equilibrium as much as this elf did. Right now, she didn't know how she would react if he agreed with others.

After a long, tediously silent moment, he finally spoke.

"I think--"

And his sentence was cut off. He snapped his attention to the surroundings, suddenly alert. Everyone else had quickly picked up on his cue.

Sure enough, several soldiers followed by mages had emerged on the path ahead. Their armors and robes were vaguely familiar to Hawke.

"Hunters", Fenris growled.


	3. Shitvalanche on Sundermount, pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the part I. Skipped the tedious fighting in the holding caves and went straight for the juicy event.

Fenris stood above Hadriana's pulverized, lifeless body and gulped heavy breaths. Hawke wasn't sure if he was tremendously relieved or simply exhausted from the fight with so many blood mages, demons and risen corpses. On the other hand, instead of resolving the issue and earning Fenris some respite, it had only gotten more complicated. He had a sister. Hawke was well aware of how important family is, but she wasn't sure what Fenris's stance was regarding the same. He seemed taken aback by the notion and even lowered his guard for a moment, though he may have been merely toying with Hadriana. Regarding how much Hawke knew about the woman, she definitely deserved to be tortured, though being viciously speared through the chest and crushed from inside was okay too.

"We are done here", Fenris said evenly and went for the passage which led back through the caves.

He seemed a bit out of it and Hawke was worried. "If you want to talk...", she said to him while trailing behind.

"No, I  _don't_ want to talk!", he suddenly stopped and turned around, glaring angrily. "This is what your kind does, Hawke! Torturing and using people because they can. And this mention of a sister may be just another bait, meant to throw me off an lure me to Danarius's grasp."

Hawke persisted to remain calm about the 'your kind' remark. "Hadriana seemed honest, Fenris. If you wish, I could help you--"

"No", he cut her off. "It doesn't matter. All that is important is that I finally had the chance to crush that bitch's heart. May she rot and all the other mages with her!"

The last thing Hawke intended was to snap, especially in such a tricky situation. Her previously chafed nerves kinda forced it, however.

"Including me?", she retorted, narrowing her eyes at Fenris. "Just like my father and my sister rot, is that right? I should have joined them in death instead of, oh I don't know, trying to build a life."

"This is not about you", Fenris growled.

"You made it about me", she growled back.

"Fine", he straightened, a vicious flame lighting his eyes. "The truth is that everything magic touches becomes spoiled and corrupted. You're not immune to it either. You are but a step from abusing magic and if you can't see it clearly, I definitely can. Hadriana used to be much like you, you know? She was an average Tevinter citizen when she was first apprenticed to Danarius, seemingly good-natured and unwilling to abuse slaves and use blood magic. But then that power was dangled in front of her when she tasted luxury and embraced the freedom to be what she really is. And she accepted it, just like any mage would."

"Don't fucking compare me to her!!!", Hawke yelled so loud her voice rang against the cave walls. "After all this time, you say this to my face! And here I thought that you know me at least--"

"I don't know what to think anymore!", Fenris yelled back. "They are right about your behavior", he pointed towards Varric, Aveline and Sebastian who stood on the side and tensely observed the confronted duo. "And wonder of wonders, the only people to think you're  _fine_ are your apostate companions! A blood mage and an abomination! You're trying to 'build a life', do you? Are you building it by constantly whoring and ignoring the havoc in the city where you live, where your mother and your brother live, when you have an opportunity to make a difference?"

Hawke's insides were burning with ire. "I  _am_ trying to make a difference! You of all people should know how difficult it is to talk to the Arishok! I'm merely trying to understand him so I could build a rapport for negotiations! Yeah, I suppose I should have forced the issue more persistently, but the whole discrimination thing with them and the rest of the city is abhorrent to me. I'm literally banned from taking the middle ground! Additionally, Dumar is constantly shrugging his own fucking responsibility onto me, and you wonder why I avoid leaping at his every single call like a lapdog?!? Why don't I take on the Guard Captain responsibility while I'm at it?", she turned to Aveline.

Sure enough, Aveline instantly frowned. "Hawke, it's not--"

"Oh, of course it's  _not!",_ Hawke cut it off. "It's also _not_  my responsibility to keep the fucking Chantry fanatics at bay because the Grand Cleric is constantly playing ignorant and spineless!"

Sebastian had instantly picked up on that. "Hawke, you know very well--"

"I  _do_ know", she cut him off as well. "That is why I'm in the middle of it constantly. And what do I get in return? Accusations from people who I consider my friends! I tried so hard to live freely despite being a mage, to support my family and help whoever I can, and when I give myself some reprieve - and don't anyone fucking  _dare_ to tell me how to condone my private life - I get the 'tramp' attribute, with STD on the side!"

Hawke was trembling from stress, and the stiff tension from her friends was nearly palpable. She was aware of how her words had hit home to everyone, but it didn't make her feel any better. Fenris was still furiously glaring at her, for one.

"I must admit I wouldn't have pegged you for the whoring type", he remarked with audible disgust.

"Why?", Hawke rose a brow at him. "Are you jealous, perhaps?" She intended to sass him, but it came out as something gross and she momentarily regretted it.

His face twisted in further disgust. "There's nothing to be jealous of. I do, however, have second thoughts about your personality."

 _"You_ have the gull to doubt  _me?",_ she snapped yet again, wounded by the coldness of his statement. "When we first met, you tricked me into helping you, then nearly turned hostile just because I was a mage, regardless of my help. All these years you talk of nothing but how mages should be imprisoned and yet you're following an apostate. And now I had a chance to see just how much your word is worth when you gave it and then immediately stomped on it. Am I allowed at all to doubt  _you?"_

"Hadriana deserved to die no matter what!!!", Fenris lashed out, the lyrium glow bursting out of his markings. "Wouldn't you do the same if someone held back information about your family?!?"

Hawke narrowed her eyes at him. "Ah, so it  _is_ important to you, after all."

"It is, but it doesn't concern you."

Of all the antagonistic lines so far, this one hurt the most. Hawke felt as if Fenris had pulverized her chest with his lyrium grasp. She could only gape, her eyes wide.

"I followed you because I owed you for helping maintain my freedom, and also because it was the best way to keep an eye on you."

And now he crushed her heart from inside.

She was wrong. He wasn't by her side because he trusted her, but because he  _didn't_ trust her. Her head swam for a moment from shock.

Hawke's fist flew up before she managed to even think about her move. It landed on Fenris's face with a dull slap.

Any other person would at least stagger from such an unrestrained blow; Hawke was no warrior, but she was still strong and kept her body in shape. However, Fenris's head merely swung to the side and that was it.

He was turning back towards Hawke in what seemed like forever to her. She was trembling from helpless rage, but that was nothing comparing to Fenris's new savage expression. His markings lit and he grabbed her by the throat, slamming her into the nearby wall.

Hawke bumped into the wall pretty hard, but the inner turmoil had prevented any sensation of pain or discomfort. Fenris's hand on her throat wasn't particularly choking her either, yet that didn't help to douse the flicker of fear in her insides. He could have killed her in a breath if he wished.

"Oh please, go ahead", she gritted out defiantly, glaring into his eyes which practically blazed at her from beneath those impacting black brows. "I'm sure you'll be better off without a cursed nuisance like me in your life."

Something broke inside of her at her own words. Trying to mask it as best as she could, she missed seeing the new expression on Fenris's face before he abruptly let go of her and stepped back. He turned his back on her and cursed something in Tevene, running his fingers through his tousled snowy hair.

The ensuing silence was nearly buzzing. Hawke glanced at the rest of her companions and confirmed that they were pretty much petrified from witnessing all this. Varric's arm was outstretched in front of Aveline's torso, which told her that he had stopped her from interfering - probably in the moment of physical confrontation between her and Fenris.

"I...need to go." Fenris's voice came out raspier than usual.

"Yeah, you do." Hawke's voice was no better.

He proceeded to the corridor which led back towards the entrance of the cave. Hawke could only watch his back as he walked away. Everything was crumbling inside of her with every step of his which widened the distance between them.

And then he was gone.

Hawke slid down the wall where she still reclined, landing on her butt on the cold cave floor. She curled into a ball and did the last thing she wanted to do. She started crying. Audibly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like writing angst, but I had to be brutal here. I promise it's worth it.


	4. Enchantment!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a big chapter. Couldn't be helped, Sandal needs room to work his magic.  
> "Excruciatingly sweet" alert is on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I had a lot to work on here. Not to mention that in the middle of writing my internet connection broke and a HUGE amount of text went into vapor. That's what I get for writing directly on the site. Bollocks. So I exploded with abundant curses Hawke-style and had to vent for some time while trying to remember what I wrote in the first place.

Hawke was walking through Hightown and mulling over the day's events. Aside from tedious obligations, it's been a nice, sunny day, and the evening was accordingly calm and pleasant. She should have been in a better mood, especially considering she's just exited the Blooming Rose. A small smile stretched her face; Serendipity was a pro, but Hawke managed to overwhelm her three rounds in a row. Faith and Osric had joined halfway through and pretty soon their room became the loudest from all the squeals, grunts and giggles, mixed with sassy remarks.  _Good times._

Hawke refused to give up her favorite 'past-time', but she's become more dutiful in the past weeks. She visited the viscount daily and endured his complaints and requests, promising to take care of it like a good little errand girl. Then she firmly pressed the Arishok and surprisingly earned even more respect by delving into outright verbal conflict. More and more it seemed she was the only person in Kirkwall he trusted, and for once she didn't feel cornered by that fact, but actually honored. She hated even thinking about the possibility of war with the Qunari, even though she clearly saw how it could happen. Mother Petrice was instigating a revolt and insidiously used any available means to fan its flames. Hawke grimaced; that backstabbing, unscrupulous bitch has advanced in Chantry ranks when there was absolutely nothing holy about her. A rotten apple in its most obvious form.

Speaking of rotten, Hawke couldn't help but immediately think of Knight Commander Meredith and her cruel stance regarding mages and, well, everything else. She winced at remembrance of Carver's recruitment, but in her heart she knew that her brother was a good man and would never hurt someone without a clear, justified cause. Carver visited the estate occasionally, under pretense of checking up on Mother, but Hawke knew her little bro missed her as well. Visiting only when Hawke was home couldn't have been a coincidence after all. "Someone has to keep an eye on you", was his excuse when she poked him about it. Granted, his involvement seemed to maintain Hawke's freedom from the Circle.

Hawke's small smile had instantly vanished. She used to have someone who already 'kept an eye on her'...but not anymore. Fenris was gone. He simply vanished after that unfortunate event at Sundermount. Obviously he has left Kirkwall. Hawke busied herself by delving into official problems, trying hard not to think about it. No matter what she did, she couldn't unfeel the gaping hole in her chest from where the elf had plucked out her heart and took it with him, who knows where. Varric had tried to goad her to talk about it, but she persisted in avoiding the subject and deterring the good dwarf's attention by other topics. She nearly stumbled only once, when Anders remarked "Good riddance" regarding Fenris's departure, and Hawke barely restrained herself from smacking him senseless. Ever since, no one dared to mention the elf in her presence and the overall atmosphere in the party was devoid of Hawke's brightness.

She was aware that she's become uncommonly stiff and her usual humor was blatantly fake - especially considering that her jokes had always been mainly directed in the broody elf's general direction. His mood had been murderous most of the time, but he never failed to pick up on a joke in his own sarcastic style and go with developing a hilarious episode which entertained everybody. They were the ever-conflicted duo who stuck together despite the differences. She never knew exactly how much she needed such a counterpart until he was gone.

 _You brought this upon yourself._ She swallowed a cold, hard lump.  _Nothing to do about it now._

 

Hawke entered her home and the first thing she saw had stopped her in place. Korey was running around the main hall, tongue lolling out and all, with Orana straddling his back as if he was a horse and giggling happily, while Sandal ran in front of them in mock terror and yelled something about "big bad warrior on a dragon coming to eat him". Bodahn was running behind them breathlessly and frantically shouting something about broken furniture. When they spotted her, they all immediately halted with startled expressions - all except for Korey, who barked happily to greet her.

"Oh, messere, I'm terribly sorry for this...", Bodahn started.

"Greetings, mistress!", Orana chimed, excited blush coloring her once sickly pale cheeks.

When they had found Orana in the holding caves, Aveline had offered to take her to the orphanage and make sure that she's taken care of, but Hawke didn't want to have any of it. She could never forget the moment when that fragile elven girl ran to her, stumbling over corpses and rubble, to offer selfless comfort when she saw Hawke crying curled on the ground. After enduring slavery, after losing her father to blood magic, after witnessing so much death and torment, her heart had miraculously remained pure. Hawke had taken her in without a second thought. She had trouble explaining to Orana how she wasn't a slave anymore but the 'mistress' part stuck no matter the approach. Despite everything magic has done to her, Orana was in awe of Hawke's powers when she set aflame the entire cave as they exited, resigned to cleanse it from all the foulness which transpired there. They only carried out the body of Orana's father and buried it under a nearby tree, according to elven customs. As Hawke held Orana's trembling frame close while she mourned over the fresh grave, she was certain she had gained a new member of the family. When the girl was brought to the estate, it didn't take long before Mother agreed on that stance. Hawke understood how Mother subconsciously reflected the loss of Bethany upon Orana, but it was a miracle on its own to see Mother in high spirits after so long, while she took upon herself to buy clothes for the girl, teach her to read and write and simply bask in female company, since Hawke was frequently away from home on business. 

"Big bad dragon", Sandal grinned to Korey's snout. In turn, Korey licked him across the face from the chin up to the hairline.

Hawke couldn't take it anymore. She burst into laughter, bending over.

"It's going to eat me!", Sandal exclaimed in mock horror and resumed running. As expected, Korey took off after him, Orana whooping excitedly on his back as he bolted. And Bodahn continued chasing them, distress all but flaking off him like foundry sparks.

Hawke beelined the chasing party and went upstairs to bathe. She had a bathroom connected to her bedroom and it was one of the features which she appreciated the most in the mansion. When she was done, she changed into fresh homey clothes and went back downstairs to look for Mother. The crazy chase had apparently ceased in the meantime, judging by the lack of noise and commotion in the house. She figured Bodahn had probably busied the scamps with some chores.

Hawke entered the living room, and her paces slowed gradually as she advanced, until her body halted entirely in the middle of the room. In the back of her mind, she wasn't sure if magic had accidentally seeped out through her body from shock and froze her literally.

Mother was sitting in the lounge part in front of the fireplace in her favorite armchair. On the round ornamented table between her armchair and the loveseat was a teapot, two steaming cups and a plate arranged with Mother's homemade pastries. The visitor occupying the loveseat was...Fenris.

She had obviously interrupted some pleasant chat, and they both turned to her as she entered the room. Fenris's electric-green gaze had instantly shattered Hawke from inside, just like his mighty blow would've shattered opponents which she had previously frozen solid. A havoc of emotions swirled through her system and she was unable to hold onto any of them.

"Darling, welcome home", Mother greeted in her warm voice. "How was your day?", she asked, as if it was perfectly normal to have Fenris in their home. As if he belonged there. As if he hasn't been missing for weeks.

Fenris used to visit occasionally, before, so it wouldn't have been such a big deal. True to that, he seemed generally relaxed. His long black jacket was folded across the armrest of the loveseat, Lethendralis casually leaned onto the backrest. He wasn't wearing gauntlets, nor plated boots; sometimes he preferred going barefoot, a feature of his elven origin.

Hawke managed to loosen her constricted jaw, somehow. "It was...fine. Hi, Fenris."

"Hi", he nodded to her stiffly.

He sat with his elbows leaned onto his knees, his hands clasped loosely between them. His strong, shapely arms boasted their lyrium etchings, as he wore only a black vest with white seams on his upper body, with a high collar and a few buttons loosened on the front - a garment which he usually wore underneath the jacket. Lower body was encased in usual black leather pants, with a studded belt securing them low at his waist. Hawke rarely had the chance to see him in such a relaxed state, and it was more than appealing...and damn aggravating, considering the entire situation.

"Fenris was giving me pointers regarding care for Orana", Mother interjected. Hawke wasn't sure if she had noticed the tension between her and Fenris, nor if she knew what had transpired. She never told Mother about their fallout at Sundermount. "Again, I am sorry for making you remember that awful part of your life, dear", she turned a doe-eyed expression at him.

"Don't worry about it, Leandra", he gave her a warm smile. "I'm glad to have the opportunity to help. What you've done for Orana is...amazing", he added, genuine reverence coloring his tone.

She missed his voice so much.

"She is a joy to have around", Mother smiled back. "Well, I shall take my leave now", she said as she graciously stood up from the armchair.

Hawke inwardly smiled at the return of Mother's noble origin air, which suited her impeccably. All the other nobles Hawke had met ever since her status was risen didn't possess half the grace which her mother applied effortlessly. She was more than happy to have the opportunity to provide for Mother the lifestyle which she deserved.

"I understand that Fenris was away from the city for some time on business", Mother directed at her. "I assume you have plenty to catch up on. I'll go see how Bodahn is faring with our troublemakers, and then I'll retire for the evening."

Hawke narrowed her eyes on Mother as she approached her with an innocent - _too_ innocent - smile and petted her shoulder. Oh yeah, she had an impeccable insight. She wouldn't have been Mother otherwise.

As the door closed behind Mother, Hawke suddenly didn't know what to do with herself. She tried not to stare like an idiot at Fenris. She also tried to move from the spot in the middle of the living room where she halted before. All futile. Fenris didn't seem to be in a rush to break the stalemate of silence. He just sat there and looked her in the eye with an unreadable expression, immovable.

The silence was killing her more than anything. The only sound in the room was the soft crackling of logs in the fireplace. She decided to speak first, ultimately annoyed by the ridiculous impasse.

"Where have you been?", she asked. To her dismay, her voice came out barely audibly and she was certain that it didn't fully reach across the room. She tried taking a strengthening stance by crossing her arms - only to appear as if defensively hugging herself.

Fortunately, Fenris's elven hearing had picked up on her voice without a problem. "In Greenetch."

Hawke blinked in wonder. Greenetch was a small coastal town approximately fifty miles away from Kirkwall. It was more of a temporary stop for travelers who were generally headed to Ostwick, a place of little consequence a lot like Lothering used to be. Hawke never went there but she was well informed about the terrain layout of this part of Free Marches.

"Why?"

Fenris shifted in his seat. "Are you asking why I was there or why I came back?"

Hawke tensed further. "I guess...both."

He leaned onto the backrest, exhaling soundlessly. "I needed to be alone, and think."

Hawke braved a step and a half toward him. Her legs felt overly stiff. She wanted to ask what he was thinking about. She wanted to ask about the outcome of it. She wanted to ask if he came back only out of obligation towards her.

"I'm sorry."

Her voice came out weird - because it was doubled with Fenris's. They spoke the same line at the same time.

They looked at each other awkwardly, startled. Much needed warmth seeped into Hawke's chest and she shivered at it, witnessing that something similar was happening to Fenris judging by the softening of his features.

"I hear you've been busy", he said lightly.

"I guess", she responded vaguely, unconsciously sifting fingers through her loose hair. It was still somewhat damp from the previous bath. She hadn't noticed how Fenris observed her movement with utmost interest.

She was fine with this sidetracking, needing some elevation. She went on settling into her normal self, relaxing her posture. "Aveline is particularly ecstatic about it, of course. And you won't believe this, but the Arishok likes me even more now after the booming argument which I had instigated."

Fenris grinned. "I do believe it, actually. He values your honesty and straightforwardness."

Warmth had spread a little more. "Yes, well... Sometimes I'm prone of taking it a bit too far. Like saying things without thinking thoroughly beforehand."

Fenris frowned and looked away. They were back at the main issue. Still, Hawke wanted to clear it out because she couldn't bear leaving that festering wound untreated anymore.

"I'm sorry for assaulting you with my crap...back in the caves", she braved. "You were already irritated enough and I shouldn't have..." She inhaled a trembling breath, remembering everything he had said to her back then. She wondered if something had changed.

"I know you already have trouble with feeling indebted to a mage", she continued, addressing the carpet under her feet and surrounding furniture. "I want you to know that you owe me nothing, Fenris. You're free. And Carver is already regularly checking up on me so you don't have to bother with that either. I'm as good as monitored by the Circle", she tried to work up a crooked smile, looking back at him.

Fenris was literally scorching her with his eyes. "Are you saying you don't need me anymore?"

Hawke felt punched in the gut. "No!", she shook off hurriedly. "I need you." Her voice broke a little.

"Why?"

She definitely hadn't expected this development. She stared at him, lost for words. She couldn't say it. She  _shouldn't_ say it. She needed his invaluable fighting skills. That's it. Yeah. Now, if she could only voice it, that would be great. Any time now.

Fenris stood up in a set of smooth movements and started walking towards her. He looked so bloody amazing in that vest, the snug garment accenting his athletic figure in a manner that reminded her of a predator's grace. Suddenly she felt much like a prey. She took a step back, weird fear spearing her insides.

Seeing her retreat, Fenris stopped his approach. Something akin to guilt flashed across his face and he straightened.

"I was...angry...when we argued", he squeezed out. "Because of Hadriana and everything. I took it out on you. I didn't mean..." He huffed exasperatedly. "This sounded far better in my head", he smirked, placing his hands on his hips.

Against all odds, Hawke blushed. Like a friggin' teenager. She clearly felt heat in her face. "Um... So... You..." And now she was stammering.  _Great._ Her hand went into her hair again.

Fenris continued his advance toward Hawke. Startled from brief bashfulness, she instantly resumed her retreat.

He stopped again, narrowing his eyes at her. "Marian, are you afraid of me?"

Her name, her  _first name_ on his lips had nearly undone her. He never called her anything but "Hawke" before. Her mind blanched and her field of vision narrowed to his piercing eyes. She hugged herself again on impulse.

"I..." And she stopped there. He was a vicious warrior who hated mages. He fought by her side but he never claimed fealty to her. He could have killed her any time he wished, but he didn't. And yet... But no, that wasn't it. She wasn't quite able to explain it even to herself, let alone to him.

Fenris turned from her with a heavy, audible sigh. He paced around for a while with a half-angry, half-pained expression, his bare feet nearly soundless on the carpet. Hawke could only observe, still mind-blank.

He finally stopped and faced her again. "I would never hurt you. _Never._ "

She responded with a stare of surprise and disbelief.

"I am sorry for what happened in the caves. I was...not myself", he looked away guiltily.

"I hit you first", she squeezed out.

"I deserved it."

Hawke was pretty sure that she was never so baffled in her entire life. She recuperated quickly though, picking up on an opening.

"Yeah, you did", she frowned. "I thought you trusted me. I thought you'd want my support. I thought I wasn't just a hateful mage to you."

"You aren't."

She stared flabbergasted at him.

"You are strong, Marian. I've witnessed you exerting self-control over your powers time and again. You do it as skillfully as a warrior wields their weapon. You could have used blood magic in life-threatening situations, but I see and I know that you would rather die than consider that option. I do not approve of your association with Merrill and Anders and I never will, but I believe that you are at least giving them a good example of how mages  _should_ condone themselves."

Hawke was all but trembling from the assault of emotions. That gaping hole in her chest had started filling up unexpectedly. "So...do you consider me as your friend?"

Fenris paused for a spell, his expression changing. "I did."

 _Past tense._ Hawke was sure she would eventually faint from all the emotional flips if this continues.

Fenris resumed his damn approach  _again_ and she wondered if fainting would transpire sooner than she assumed. She wasn't able to make even two steps before her back hit the wall. Panic sprang up in her as Fenris neared, extended his arms and leaned them against the wall, caging her.

She would have went through the wall if she could. Well, she _could_ , but she didn't want to blow a hole in her own home. Feeling trapped, Hawke stiffened and did the only thing available - stared into Fenris's eyes. He was so close. She could smell him, and her insides quivered from the spicy mix that was uniquely him.

He lowered his hand towards her hair and she cringed involuntarily. He picked up a long, pale strand in his fingers, and the gentle movement electrified her entire scalp.

"I'm not buying it, you know", he said in a low voice, distinctively raspy. Goosebumps went down her spine.

"What?"

"That you're 'magically dying your hair'. Tell me why it's like this."

She frowned faintly. "You think it's ugly?"

"On the contrary." Fenris's warm fingers sneaked into her nearly-white mane and Hawke shivered all over, feeling heat in her face. "Tell me."

Hawke licked her lips, trying to make her mouth work. She was unable to defy him, feeling totally unhinged by his closeness. "The first white strands appeared when Father died. And then...a boy I was in love with was killed by giant spiders just outside of Lothering. A few more white locks appeared. And another young man who I dated afterwards had turned into a tainted ghoul when the Blight descended upon Lothering. He attacked me and...I had to kill him. More white. Soon after that, Bethany was killed by an ogre, and...now I have only a few thin dark strands left." She gathered enough courage to look back into his eyes. The sympathy showing there made her tremble again. "I suppose I don't have to worry about having grey hair when I start ageing", she finished with a fake grin.

Fenris wasn't smiling. "I'm sorry", he murmured quietly, his hand lightly massaging the back of her head. It felt good.  _Too_ good.

She shrugged. "I'm guessing it has something to do with me being a mage. People survive tragedies all the time and don't get white hair like this."

"Perhaps", he narrowed his eyes. "But I also think you're more sensitive than you let others see."

Hawke scowled. "Are you saying that I'm a wuss?"

He chuckled. "Being sensitive and being weak are completely different concepts."

Fenris's damnable fingers were now exploring the sensitive spot behind her ear. Hawke let out a trembling breath and hitched up her shoulders, as if trying to curl into a ball while standing.

"You're...awfully shy for someone who frequents a brothel", he frowned, openly puzzled.

 _Oh, great,_ Hawke inwardly moaned in dismay. At least his hand had finally left her hair. She was about to dissolve into butterfly-shaped sparks if he had continued doing that for any longer.

"I'm _not_ shy", she gritted out.

"Marian, I'm positive by now that it's not fear."

She looked at him sharply. "I'm  _not_ afraid and I'm  _not_ shy. I simply feel...awkward. You said that you don't think of me as your friend anymore!", her voice rose as she detached from the wall, her face merely an inch from his.

Fenris's eyes zeroed on her lips. Hawke's eyes widened in shock at this imminent closeness and the ensuing possibilities and she slammed back into the wall, the back of her head thumping against the smooth surface.

"It's more than friendship", Fenris rasped out, resuming caging her with his arms and his potent, overcast gaze.

_Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, no._

"But if you prefer your...other activities...", he trailed off, looking away.

Hawke was burning. She would spontaneously combust any time now. Her heart lurched right into her throat.

"I don't have other activities", she blurted out, earning a surprised look from Fenris. "I'm not...sleeping with anyone", she barely managed to add, fervently trying to avoid those beautiful eyes.

"Excuse me?" He somehow managed to sound awestruck and unconvinced at the same time.

"It's the truth", Hawke confirmed, trying to breathe normally. The wall behind her became preposterously warm.

"Then what are you doing in the brothel time and again?" His tone was distinctively sarcastic.

"Playing cards."

Fenris lowered his arms and stared at her with a curious frown, bordering on shocked.

"We're just playing cards, sometimes drinking and generally having fun. I pay them the usual fee, but we're not having sex."

He stared some more at her, utterly taken aback. "Why in the Void are you doing that?", he crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

"Because I'm an idiot", she shrugged, feeling fully as one. "It's better if others think I'm...active...instead of doing nothing at all. And I...I guess I feel better after going there. Everyone are really nice and friendly and above all, discrete." Hawke covered her face with both hands and moaned into her palms. "Why are you making me tell you this?!? I'll never be able to live it down!"

She felt gentle, yet strong hands on her wrists, pulling her hands off her face. She looked at Fenris, fully expecting to see a mocking expression there.

But there was no such thing. He looked concerned. And relieved. "I still don't understand."

Hawke lowered her head, prepared to give the last bit of her pride to this damnable elf.

"I'm lonely", she whispered barely audibly. "And you...hated me."

Lyrium flash had nearly blinded Hawke and she closed her eyes tight on impulse. In a swift move, Fenris's hands had abandoned her wrists and cupped her face, rising it up only to slant his lips over hers and press his entire body into hers. Hawke gasped through her nose in shock, and delight, and total, sheer bliss. Her arms snaked on their own around Fenris's back, holding for dear life. He deepened the kiss and Hawke's knees buckled from the assault of desire and the wondrous taste of him. It was a dream come true.

But it wasn't a dream. It was reality.  _Reality,_ slammed into the back of Hawke's mind.  _And reality brings tragedy._

She wrung herself out of Fenris's embrace and stepped around him, still shaking from the sweetness that his affection has infused into her entire being. Detaching herself from him now that she finally had him felt like ripping off her own skin, but she had to do it.

"Don't", she extended a halting hand at his approach. He was still glowing, he didn't show any inclination to stop and she continued retreating. "Please, Fenris!", she nearly cried out. "Haven't you been listening?!? I'm cursed! I'm bad luck!"

That stopped him. And the markings had doused a bit. "What are you talking about?", he asked, frowning. Desire was still burning in his eyes and it was still warming her within. Her whole body was tingling, wide awake.

"Everyone I love dies", she said weakly. "I've been in love before, and though it wasn't nearly anything like  _this,_  still they both died in a horrible way! And my family members died. All my childhood friends from Lothering had died as well."

"That's preposterous", Fenris's voice rose in disdain. "You're _not_ cursed. People die, and that's it. You're not responsible for other people's fates. You can only try to help and protect your loved ones as best as you can but you're not almighty, Marian. No one is."

Hawke stood, shaken, wavering. She wanted to believe that. She wanted...

Fenris's expression suddenly ironed out into something far gentler. Something wonderful. "Wait, you...love me?"

Her breath hitched. Her face nearly exploded from the flush. She couldn't say "yes" - because that would be catastrophic, and she couldn't say "no" - because that would be utterly untrue.

"We're going to discuss your 'curse' delusion later", Fenris frowned, quickly advancing at Hawke.

She was too flustered to try and back away again. "But I'm not--mmmh", she ended on a moan, her protest cut off by Fenris's lips.

She couldn't find the will to resist anymore. It felt too good. It felt too  _right._ All reason escaped Hawke's mind as Fenris held her, his body impossibly comfortable against hers and his kiss becoming more vital to her than next breath.

The broody elf was finally hers - against all odds. For a moment Hawke imagined that the very air around them vibrated from all the energy they emanated.

"Ooh! Enchantment!"

The kiss was broken abruptly as both Fenris and Hawke turned their heads to the door. Sure enough, Sandal stood there and looked at them with an ecstatic expression. He even clapped his hands happily a few times.

"Maker's breath", Hawke slapped her forehead. Fenris only chuckled.

"Sandal, shouldn't you be in bed?", she let go of Fenris - unwillingly - and approached Sandal who didn't show any inclination to leave the doorway.

"Enchantment", he grinned contently at her as she took him by the hand and led him back to his and Bodahn's quarters.

Hawke laughed out softly. "Yeah... I suppose it is. I'm just wondering who exactly is the enchanted one."

"Lady Hawke enchanted", Sandal concluded proudly.

"Really?", she rose a brow at him. "But  _I'm_ the mage."

They stopped then in front of the room which Bodahn and Sandal occupied, and as if on cue, Bodahn opened the door.

"Oh, Sandal! Sorry, messere, was he bothering you?", the kind dwarf asked as he ushered Sandal back into the room. "He has trouble sleeping lately, I'm afraid."

"Indeed?", she asked with genuine concern. "Then I'll get some calming tea mixture from Anders tomorrow. Don't worry, Bodahn."

"Thank you, messere. And have a good night."

"Lady Hawke enchanted!", Sandal exclaimed once more from within the room.

 


	5. Fire in the hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, this escalated quickly... I had to change the rating from Mature to Explicit. And there's also a small addition to the tags. Both are mainly related to the following chapters, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of Enchantment!; I tend to write vignettes, so I'll warn you properly when that sort of thing happens.

"Oh, a fresh corpse", Hawke commented as Fenris led her by the hand into the great main hall of his mansion.

The body seemed to belong to an especially filthy burglar, whose front now gaped with a diagonal dried out cut, showing a generous view of intestines. The work of Lethendralis, no doubt. Anyone else would undoubtedly gag from the sight of such a colorful kill, but not Hawke. She'd seen her share of death and then some, especially since she had met her crazy companions.

"I found that mongrel in the back yard when I returned this afternoon, trying to pick his way inside to no avail”, Fenris clarified. “He tried to stab me on sight, so I ran him into the house, and...well."

Hawke’s face scrunched up. “Why did you have to make chopped livers outta him? Lyrium-fisting would’ve been, you know, cleaner.”

Fenris grunted. She was unsure if that was an admonishing snort or an attempt of a snicker; his naturally gravelly voice had always made it hard to distinguish. “The bugger was damn agile. I wanted to get it over with quickly instead of chasing after him around the place.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “’Lyrium-fisting’? Really?”

Hawke shrugged with a goofy smile. “Isabela.”

He shook off with a snort – this time it actually was a snort – and continued leading her towards the stairs. Without breaking the stride, he turned his patented smoldering-slash-icy look at her. "While we’re at it… It seems that someone has magically warded my abode against break-ins while I was away."

Hawke fought back a swarm of inner butterflies. The size of dragons. With leathery wings and scales. Breathing fire. Okay, they were inner dragons.

She cleared her throat and lifted a defiant brow. "Is that an objection? Nasty magic invading your space and all."

Fenris stopped their ascension in the middle of the staircase, abruptly rounding on Hawke and pressing her back into the banister, fully flushed against her body. She clutched the railing on her sides and tried to breathe, as Fenris's face neared hers at the distance of a whisper. Her lips tingled in anticipation, but he slid against her cheek and simultaneously tightened his hold on her upper back, one hand sneaking into her hair.

It actually wasn't so bad being caged by his arms, she concluded. She had always had a panicky fear of being held down, restrained, denied freedom, what have you.  _Sweet Maker, who am I kidding? I'd let him tie me up like a nugloaf if he wished so._ Her belly trembled against his tight abs and her breasts heaved through tattered breaths, straining against his firm chest with every movement.

"I think my _space_ can’t get invaded more than it already is", he rasped into her ear, his lips touching the sensitive shell only barely and his warm breath feathering against her skin. Hawke gritted her teeth to prevent an audacious moan of shameless want.

“Maybe…I should have warded you against myself instead”, she murmured against the lyrium-lined skin of his neck – _so inviting, oh shiiiiit don’t kiss it, don’t lick it –_ and gripped the railing firmer, her hands trembling from the effort and the discomfort of cold metal biting into her palms.

He chuckled into her hair, growling softly. Now he was bloody nuzzling. And growling. She was going to die. She was going to expire by dissolving into a pile of quivering goo.

“Would you have done it, if you had the power?”, he asked, turning back to face her. His eyes were serious now.

Hawke was collided with the reality check again. Searching her soul for an answer, she felt torn. She was familiar with the concept of denying herself plenty in order to protect her loved ones. As a mage, it was the first thing she had learned from her father. His words sprang into her memory. _“You have a greater responsibility than most, Mari. Always think of the safety of others before your own. They don’t possess your powers and they are, by default, in your care.” A wicked grin. “The enemies, however, are not.”_ Dear, good Father.

Fenris was powerful. He was very capable of deflecting magic and taking care of himself while she was casting – not that she had ever harmed him with her spells, or others in the party for that matter. He was actually often the one protecting _her_ on the battlefield.

Yes, she would have done it. She would have ripped off a piece of her soul and tossed it into the Fade, but Fenris would have been safe from her, from death which loomed from within her own shadow and flailed at everyone she ever loved, mostly hitting the mark. He had suffered more than enough and the last thing she wanted was to attach her accursed self to him and deny him the life of freedom which he fervently fought for.

He was looking at her, patient and unyielding as only he was able to be, waiting for her answer. His fingers were drawing small circles on the back of her neck, softly pressing against the tension there. She wondered if he was even aware of doing it.

“Would you want it?”, she heard herself asking. _Two are dancing on this platform,_ she reminded herself.

Fenris’s eyes narrowed, seemingly examining hers, but she felt as if he was looking at his own reflection in them.

After a tense pause, he leaned his forehead onto hers and exhaled softly. “I suppose it’s redundant to ponder on it now.”

 _Nicely nonspecific,_ she thought, pasting a weak grin. She could have prodded the issue further, but she didn’t want to. She _knew_ that he would have preferred not to feel attracted to her. Maybe it was the rush of danger which enticed him, the excitement of contradiction. Accordingly, every touch of his was radiating passion, held back for who knows how long. Fenris was definitely the sort who would hold back until he was definitely certain of his intentions. He was gone for nearly three weeks and that was plenty of time to focus and think about what he wanted. But the fact that he loathed magic had remained, regardless of their new…relation…whatever it was. And she couldn’t deny her own feelings which had built up over the years, “relation” or no.

 _Don’t take him,_ Hawke sent a soundless prayer into the ether, to Andraste, to the Maker, to Death itself, letting go of the railing and winding her arms around Fenris’s torso. _If someone has to be taken, take me instead._ And that plea was more of a faint, because she knew very well that Death didn’t want _her,_ only those closest to her. She hoped fervently that this time her prayer would be heard. She hoped that Fenris’s hatred towards magic was enough of a gap between them to keep him safe…just like Carver’s relentless angst towards her had kept him alive as well.

Hawke felt warm hands on the sides of her face, lifting her head as Fenris’s forehead separated from hers. There was concern in his eyes… His thumbs swiped against her cheeks and the cold trail in their wake spoke of moisture.

Tears. _Shit._

“You’re thinking about that fucking ‘curse’ thing again”, he growled low, scowling.

She cast her eyes down.

“Marian--“

“Invisible undies.”

Fenris blinked, expression stumped. “What?”

“I’m thinking about your invisible undies.” Hawke’s hand slid down the curve of Fenris’s back, slipping over the belt and splaying right across one firm, plump buttock. She bit her lip, enjoying the feel of it immensely, daring to squeeze just a tiny bit. In turn, Fenris’s gaze had significantly heated and his hands had trailed off her cheeks and into her hair. She began realizing that he actually had a thing for her hair in earnest. “I have…reason to believe”, her voice came out lower and raspier, “that you’re not wearing any.”

“I don’t see how that would make you cry”, Fenris murmured against Hawke’s lips, his hand fisting in her hair as she moved her fingers slightly along his ass, teasing the smooth leather of his pants.

“So you’re not denying it?”, she grinned.

“Can you feel them?”, he grinned in turn.

Hawke shivered, realizing that, in fact, she couldn’t trace any sign of them. _Bloody Void, Isabela. I’m sooo not telling you that you were right._

“And you wonder why I cried when you’re pressed into me with no pants on…well, technically…and holding me here on the stairs in a stalemate when I know for certain that you have a big fluffy bed in your room?”, Hawke blurted out breathlessly, forsaking that gorgeous ass lest her hand combusted. 

"Is that so", he murmured deviously, before grasping her lower lip with his lips and teeth, suckling gently, deliberately.

"Hnnn", Hawke let out a weak whine, as he slipped her lip out with a sweet smack. "I-I mean, t-that...isn't just your belt poking at me down there...is it?", she tried to sound sassy and failed spectacularly, along with squirming bashfully instead of rolling her hips in a seductive manner as she intended.  _Oh man, I'm such a fail._

She managed to see a glimpse of embarrassment in Fenris's eyes before he delved into kissing her deeply, pulling her head backwards for better approach with his hand wound in her hair. She smiled inwardly, warmed by the realization that he too was nervous about all this. After all, his advance was way too--  _Holy fucking shitballs._ He was pressing his pelvis into hers, giving a confirmation that there definitely was something else besides his belt poking against her. Hawke shivered and couldn't prevent a tattered moan through the kiss for the life of her, gripping tighter onto Fenris's back.

He broke the kiss abruptly and inhaled a bracing breath. "Onward to the 'big fluffy bed' then", he grinned and resumed pulling Hawke upstairs by the hand.

Hawke was doing a little happy dance in her head.  _We're gonna do it. Oh yeah, we're gonna do it!_

Then she flipped into panic.  _Maker save me. We're gonna do it! What am I-- How am I--_

"Oh! A moment", she stopped and turned, all calm and composed, exactly how she actually wasn't. She needed a diversion. For a minute, at least.

She drew her power from within in a well-trained fashion, surging it into her free hand which began glowing orange at the infusion of magic. Then she threw a small, precise fireball across the hall and straight at the corpse in the corner by the door. The whoosh resonated throughout the hall and the body was instantly caught in scorching flames, rapidly burning off. The surrounding damage was close to none, save for the soot on the floor beneath the small pyre.

"There, nice and crispy", she nodded contently at her work. The slight exhaustion caused by casting was beneficial for her tense nerves.

Turning back to Fenris, she noticed that he was immovably observing the slowly subsiding flames eating away at the charred, now pretty much shapeless pile of human remains. He wasn't aggravated, but he wasn't all too happy either. His eyes slid to her and his brow went up in a voiceless question.

"Well, we can't have that thing stinking up your home", she shrugged innocently.

He let out a tired sigh, shaking off. "Just keep the...flashy outbursts to a minimum."

"Sure, sure", she chirped, following suit.


	6. Elemental jig and a busted vine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Keep the flashy outbursts to a minimum."_  
>  Ah, poor Fenris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a BIG chapter. I had to go into detail here, there was no way around it. You may or may not be pissed at me for the slow burn.  
> Also, a little bit of my take on defloration of Latin language to turn it into something quasi-Tevene.

Fenris’s room had only one narrow window which was draped in a heavy curtain for the most part, so it was pitch dark until he lit the lantern on the table. The amber glow had illuminated the space only so much to make the shapes of the interior visible.

Hawke had been here many times before, but now it was very different. No, Fenris hadn’t rearranged the layout. Precisely as when he first settled in, there was a big bed in the corner, a table with two chairs in the opposite corner, two low benches in front of the fireplace with a simple rug on the floor between them, a modest wardrobe close to the door. Fenris had removed all other furniture and miscellaneous things from the room, including the pictures from the walls, so the entirety of his living space looked rather barren. And yet it was full of…stuff. Like his scent. And his energy. And tension which now oscillated within Hawke and practically stirred the air around her.

Staying at her mansion was out of the question. There was a distinctive possibility that Sandal could end up being scarred for life by certain displays, for one. Not to mention that Mother’s room was right next to hers. She also imagined that Korey would probably scratch at the door at some point and whine and demand entrance; no force in the world could keep him away from her bed, ever since he had imprinted to her. And so they simultaneously agreed to go to Fenris’s place, which wasn’t much of a hassle, considering that his mansion was located merely twenty yards away.

And now they were in his room, just the two of them. In a dim, potent atmosphere. She was standing beside one of the benches across the fireplace and sizzling inwardly. And he was now approaching her.

“Do you want me to tend to the fire?”, Hawke offered merrily, pointing at the cold pile of wood in the hearth.

Fenris stopped a few feet from her, a suspicious expression replacing the sensual want. He eyed the fireplace, then her. “Are you trying to kill the mood on purpose?” A dull pause. “Because it’s working.”

Shock overcame Hawke. “What-- No! I’m just…” She was suddenly lost for words. She wanted to facepalm her brains out. _Of course_ he would be cross, she was practically flaunting magic into his face. Again.

“…throwing fireballs around to douse the nervousness?”, he finished her sentence in a weary tone, closing the distance between them.

Hawke shivered at the small rush of relief as he enclosed her again in his embrace. “I… Ugh. I suppose so. I’m sorry”, she murmured against his shoulder. “I’m really transparent, aren’t I”, she squeezed out weakly.

Fenris sighed heavily, his breath stirring her hair. “Fine. Light the damn fire. But this is the last one.”

Hawke smiled into his neck. She only moved her hand from his waist and flicked her wrist towards the fireplace. The live spark from her fingers had landed on the logs and immediately ignited them to a steady burn. More light had filled the room, along with tangible warmth.

“Thank you for not…you know…freaking out”, she said softly and planted a kiss into Fenris’s neck, right beneath his ear.

The elf shivered at that, his hands tightening around her. Whatever he had intended to reply was lost in the ensuing kiss, which now started melting Hawke’s tension. She didn’t mind his hands roaming along her body, as if memorizing its contours, or perhaps molding her into a whole new, better shape. She felt beautiful, desired, appreciated. She had been aware of her good looks and taken it as-is, but this was a whole new experience. In turn, she had her fill of finally touching the broody elf, his firm planes and curves, sensing the straining power within, feeling more than seeing the glow of his markings like an ethereal balm. She used to be afraid of his glow, because it personified his anger, and his glowing anger meant that someone was about to die. She was astonished, and plenty relieved by the fact that he was also able to glow from arousal.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Hawke licked the lyrium line along the side of Fenris’s neck, adding a gentle nibble. Seen up close, it looked amazing; his lyrium etchings were dusky white veins with a bluish hue – when they weren’t glowing like the winter Moon, like now for instance - only slightly prominent on his skin and they tasted – _hot damn, heavens yes! –_ sweetly metallic, mixing with the faintly salty taste of the rest of Fenris’s skin. Hawke’s shiver of delight was instantly seized by Fenris’s crushing grip and a groan…or a moan…or both. Coincidentally, his hands were on her ass at the time and he fiercely squished her buttocks, nailing their pelvises together, the move shifting Hawke’s body up to her toes. _Yeah, he likes,_ she smiled, gasping at the pressure. She decided that something needed to be done with that buckle which bit into her stomach.

Hawke moved away only so much to grab the buckle and start unfastening Fenris’s belt. She hadn’t noticed that her sash was swiftly unwrapped from her waist as well, concentrated on getting rid of the damn thing. When it was finally undone, she realized that there’s a button and a zipper. On the _very strained_ pants. With no undies underneath. She gulped, shifting her focus to the vest. That one was easy, just one long zipper in the front and –- _oh sweet Maker._

As if in an enchanted daze, Hawke slowly slid the vest over Fenris’s shoulders, in which he dutifully helped by shrugging out of it. She stared, slacked jaw, at the…”work of art” was the only thing that came to mind. She had never seen him shirtless before. Fenris had a lean, elven built, but he had the musculature of a warrior, all shapely pecs and abs, ornamented with curvy lines of lyrium on deliciously dusky skin. She made an entranced circle around Fenris, faintly registering that her hand was tracing along his body as she moved. His back was just as shapely and ornamented, the indenture of his spine between the muscles simply begging for her finger to trace. So she did it. Fenris straightened at that a bit, but didn’t flinch away, so she braved further and palmed his back with both hands, soaking in the smoothness of his skin, the protruding lyrium veins which created delightful friction at the glide of her touch. She embraced him from the back and softly pressed her lips into the nape of his neck, closing her eyes, completely taken by the warmth and shape and _everything_ that was Fenris. She nuzzled his feathery hair at the back of his head, inhaling a fresh scent which reminded her of a forest spring. A deep sigh of contentment rose his chest, along with her hand that was splayed there in a possessive manner.

Hawke’s eyes suddenly snapped open. A bolt of guilt had speared through her and she abruptly detached herself from Fenris. He half-turned to her, giving her a questioning look. That look over the shoulder was positively sinful. _I’m so stupidly smitten, it’s bloody ridiculous._

“I’m sorry”, she squeezed out, pressing her arms to herself, lest she reached out again and groped him like a…a… _Greedy mage._ She knew very well that Fenris’s markings produced mana, which Danarius had frequently tapped into. She would have rather died from depletion than do that. She also knew that Danarius had deliberately beautified Fenris’s markings to make him look “appealingly lethal”. He was a sick bastard like that.

Fenris turned bodily to her and stared some more. That may have been a hint of resentment in his eyes; she wouldn’t have been surprised, considering that his glow had doused nearly completely. She looked away.

“Fenris, I know you had suffered when you…” Her breath hitched and she squeezed her eyes, trying to will herself to disappear from the room. Fat chance. There was no way around this.

He grabbed her chin and turned it, forcing her to look him in the eye. “I appreciate your concern, but right now I don’t want it.”

Hawke was taken aback. She was still burning with guilt, though. “But… But I was enjoying--!”

“So was I.”

She blinked, incredulous. “Really?”

Fenris snickered, his smile instantly crushing Hawke’s tension. He wound his arms around her frame, additionally melting her with his warmth and his heady scent. For a moment he looked at her oddly, pondering. “Marian, I must admit that the last thing I would have expected from you is to be so…restrained”, he finished in a careful manner.

What he meant to say was “embarrassed”, of course. And oh, was she. She was royally making a fool of herself. Kirkwall’s well-known badass was actually a coy maiden, and the last person who should have seen that display was currently observing, and very intently at that. Hawke didn’t know who to be angry at more, Fenris or herself.

“It’s…appealing”, Fenris murmured against her lips, tightening his hold on her.

She moved her head back an inch, giving him a baffled look. Fenris wasn’t the type who would go easy on anyone, not even her. _Especially_ not her. “How can acting like an idiot be appealing?”, she asked openly.

He snickered again, the fiend. “It’s a mystery, I’ll give you that.” She growled at him and tried to wiggle out of his embrace. “But your nervousness is diminishing mine.”

She stopped wiggling. He was serious, and he was giving her that heated look again. She felt relieved, if only a smidgen.

“I have already told you that I don’t have…experience…in this regard, or at least not one that I would remember. However, I don’t like…being handled”, he said tensely. “Having space to do things my way is welcoming.”

Hawke was unsure if she could be more in love with Fenris than she already was, but it seemed that there was more room yet.

“Um…” She cleared her throat, fighting an assault of fluffiness within. “Well, do you know what to…uh. You know.”

_Spectacular, Hawke. Idiocy limit breached, congratulations._

Fenris pursed his lips, obviously preventing an outburst of laughter. Hawke’s face was a heated oven. “It’s a challenge, I admit, but I believe that I can handle one flustered mage.”

Hawke pouted like a storm cloud. “You’re a dick.”

“Funny how I never noticed before that you have freckles”, he said nonchalantly, tracing the bridge of her nose with the tip of his finger. “The blush must have made them more prominent.”

“I hate you.”

“I wonder if you have them in other places as well”, his voice dipped low, and his finger slowly slid down, snatching languidly at Hawke’s lips. She was suddenly unable to voice any biting retort. The finger in question continued sliding down, turning into a splay of fingers at her neck, fanning over her collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Hawke had stretched her arms down at her sides, willing herself to remain still, feeling sensitized like never before under Fenris’s slow, deliberate touch. Her knee-length robe was buttoned up at the front and she felt it becoming undone as the mean, shirtless elf in front of her was handling it with only one hand, while the other was firmly holding her waist. She was mesmerized by his expression while he was taking care of the buttons, all composed and incredibly interested.

And then he stopped. Hawke wondered why for a moment, until she looked down. The slit ended beneath her navel, and…there were no more buttons to undo. The front of her robe was gaping open, barely covering her nipples. She saw Fenris’s hand reaching out, splaying across her belly. He started glowing again as his hand slid upwards, across her trembling chest, the friction of his palm against her skin sparking every nerve in her body to life. His other hand joined the exploration, as he slowly slid the garment across her shoulders, letting it slide down her body and pool at her feet.

 _“Par fero gloris”_ , Fenris whispered, returning his hands to her body. _Yes, keep them there, don’t ever let go._ She would have actually said it, but her voice didn’t seem to work at the moment. She even had trouble breathing. He traced her sides, teasing the strings of her panties, tied at her hips. He grinned, obviously appreciating them. Hawke blushed some more. His hands slid along her waist, and up, up, slowly grasping at her breasts and engulfing them in warmth and electrified sensation surged through her and _ohhh Makerrrrr…_

There was a sharp sizzle and a loud, doubled crushing noise at her sides. Hawke’s eyes widened and Fenris’s hands halted…and then retracted. She almost whimpered at the coldness left behind on her skin. But then she noticed his newly strained expression, a frown etching into his face and nearly swallowing all the desire. She followed the direction of his gaze. The floorboard was broken on her right, as if slammed in with an axe, except the indented place of impact was smoking. On her left, the bench was broken in two in the same manner. The damage was in exact parallel with her hands.

Hawke’s jaw dropped in horror.

She looked at Fenris and saw a blank expression. Not actually blank. It was like a calm before the storm.

“I didn’t…! I… I… Fenris, I swear I didn’t…!”

Despair started filling her as he turned from her and ran his fingers through his hair, pacing a bit. He did that only when he was super-aggravated. Then he sharply turned back towards her.

“Do you always do this?” His voice was cold gravel.

“No”, she shook off for emphasis.

“So this is a performance of lightning bolts and fireballs specially for me?” Sarcasm was dripping off the words.

She hugged herself. “I’m sorry.” She eyed the damage again. “Shit, I messed up your room…”

“That is the _least_ of my concerns right now”, he growled, speeding back towards her and gripping her wrists in a painful vise. His face was an inch from hers, and it was angry, his eyes ominous. “ _Fastede mari!_ I believed that you’re able to control your powers! Am I supposed to--“ He stopped himself short, fatigue seeping into his expression. He shook off. “I can’t do this.”

He stepped away from her, crestfallen and still angry. Hawke had an impression that her chest cavity was caving in. She was nearly naked and trembling and open like never before, and he was closing off from her, _again,_ this time for good.

He was halfway to the door when she caught up to him and latched onto his back, gripping at his chest and waist as strongly as she could. He immediately burst into lyrium glow, but she didn’t care.

“You said that you can handle one flustered mage!”, she yelled into his back, her voice ghastly reminding her of a cry.

He exhaled a trembling, tense breath. “Marian, let go of me”, he rasped out.

“I don’t know what to do”, she squeezed out. “I’ve never… I don’t know what to do.”

Fenris was suddenly very still. Like a pillar. He wasn’t even breathing. Hawke’s arms were trembling from the effort of holding on to his body tightly, while her hot breath was fanning his back.

Slowly, he took one shaky hand and detached it from his chest, then the other from his waist. He turned back to her just as carefully. Her head was still down, the pale mane of her hair covering her face. Fenris gently pulled aside the wall of hair and lifted Hawke’s face up. His face in front of her was a blur and she blinked. A couple of tears spilled across her cheeks. Feeling that, she turned her face away, angry at herself for crying like a pussy over such a--

He gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was much calmer now, as was his expression.

She sniffed indignantly. “To tell you that Marian Hawke, survivor of the Blight, conqueror of the Deep Roads, Kirkwall’s fearless arbitrator and one of the meanest fuckers in town, is a virgin? Are you nuts?”

He scowled. “That’s what matters to you? Reputation? In front of _me?”_

“Okay, I’m full of crap, I know!”, she waved out her arms frustratingly, yanking out of his grasp. “I just couldn’t be with anyone so far because…because I never…” She stopped, huffing. “What’s it matter, anyway? You probably wouldn’t have noticed.”

“I am certain that I _would_ have noticed”, Fenris growled. “Marian, I could have hurt you!”

“You already did.”

He stared at her, guilt coloring his features.

“I understand why you flipped. I just…I’m not used to these…reactions of my body. But I would never harm you!”, she emphasized, splaying her hand across his chest.

Fenris sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. Hawke suddenly became aware of her nakedness and took a half-step back, covering her breasts with her hair and hugging herself. This was a total disaster. She should have known that she was no good. At least she didn’t set the room on fire, like that time with David when the whole barn was caught in flames just because he slipped a hand into her blouse. Granted, she wasn’t so aroused back then, more like startled.

 _“Eritis bei ame periam”,_ Fenris said grimly, looking at her with his hands on his hips.

“Does that mean I should go?”

“It means that you are my disaster.”

“Oh, that’s so much better”, she responded flatly.

He approached and made short work of untangling her arms and pushing back her hair, and then engulfed her in an embrace. She shivered against him, life returning to her body at the touch of his bare skin against hers. They stood like that for a while, Fenris gently petting her hair. She didn’t mind, needing to calm down. They won’t be doing anything tonight, but there was still hope that it could happen…eventually. Maybe next year. When she learns how to control herself.

Fenris detached from her and unexpectedly clasped his hand around her throat, just above the collarbone. Hawke’s eyes widened fretfully, but she recuperated in the next moment, realizing that he wasn’t choking her in the slightest. Merely holding, with an unreadable expression on his face. He pushed, forcing her to walk backwards. She managed to follow through, and then they stopped in front of the fireplace, her bare feet feeling the soft rug underneath. Fenris let go of her throat and kicked at the remains of the broken bench, sending them tumbling two yards away. Hawke flinched, but didn’t dare to move from the spot where he left her standing. Then he bypassed her and shoved away the other bench; the sound of wood clashing against wood behind her had told her that the bench had hit the table in the corner. She had no idea why he was kicking the furniture around – well, she did, but why he decided to keep her there was beyond her. He looked bloody angry, for one.

Fenris returned to Hawke and reached out, and she instantly cringed, shrinking into herself. He stopped, his hand awkwardly hanging in the air. She saw the expression on his face and spoke before he managed to voice a question.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Likewise”, he retorted.

She straightened, frowning at him. “Why didn’t you send me away, then?”

“Because I care for you more than I care for my fears.”

And just like that, the fluffy feeling had replaced the cold lump in her belly. She flung herself into his waiting arms, drowning him in a deep kiss which he also welcomed. She enjoyed the way he gripped her hair in the back, angling her head for better approach. He was the best kisser _ever,_ parrying her lips and her tongue in a delightfully overwhelming way.

“You say the most aggravating things”, she whispered into his mouth when they finally managed to separate their faces.

“It’s my specialty to be aggravating”, he grinned and grasped a handful of her ass, his fingers slipping beneath the seam of her panties.

Hawke moaned, biting her lip, feeling his fingers so close to where no one ever touched before… Then she gasped, catching a glimpse of her arm, thrown across Fenris’s shoulder. Sparks of electricity were dancing upon her skin. She tried to will them back, only to realize in appall that she couldn’t. And then Fenris noticed them as well. He frowned, slowly lifting his other hand, while with the other still tightening on Hawke’s ass and teasing at the edge of her inner thigh mercilessly. The sparks intensified a little at that, and his fingers tensed for a moment above Hawke’s arm. And then he lowered them right into the swirl of electricity. Hawke beheld in awe as the sparks rolled over Fenris’s skin, his fingers moving slightly as if playing with them. In turn, his markings started glowing all over again.

“Hmm”, he graveled out in a contemplating tone.

“You okay?”, Hawke asked, still fretful.

“It doesn’t sting”, he responded. “It’s…tingly.”

“Good tingly?”, she dared to relax a bit, hopeful.

A crooked grin and a look beneath the brows was a response good enough.

 

 

> _Meanwhile…_

 

 

“Are you sure that it was Fenris?”, Merrill asked as she trotted behind the dwarf.

“My contacts are never wrong. I pay them enough to be sure of that”, he half-turned to the delicate Dalish girl. “Besides, who in the world would mix up a lyrium-smudged, white-haired broody elf with someone else?”, he snorted.

“Varric, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a bit counter-productive to bring a blood mage to a _friendly_ visit to an ex Tevinter slave?”, Isabela thumbed in Merrill’s direction. “No offense, Kitten”, she added gently.

Merrill waved off with a sunny smile.

“Well, he has to realize that we’re his friends, whatever the differences”, he responded. “Frankly, I’m sick of his magic-hating shit.”

“He came back”, Merrill added wistfully. “That has to mean something.”

“I hope you’re right, Daisy”, Varric sighed.

They made a turn to the alley where Fenris’s mansion was located. It was a quiet night, the streets cleared out from occasional thugs with no small effort from Hawke’s entourage about a month ago, to the utmost delight of stuck-up Hightowners. The trio entered through the gate of the estate, which was not only unlocked, but also ajar. Not that a lock would be a problem for either Varric or Isabela. However, the front door of the mansion was not only locked, but magically sealed.

“What the fuck?!?”, Isabela hissed at the surge of electricity, or some other magical outburst, which stung her hand when she tried to pick the lock on the door.

“Glad I didn’t do it”, Varric murmured. Isabela slapped his shoulder.

“It’s sealed by magic”, Merrill concluded, her hand hovering over the door. “It’s also sealed _against_ magic. The only person I know who would be able to do this is Hawke.”

“Not so surprising, really”, Varric stood akimbo, frowning at the big, immovable door.

“She’s protecting his ass after everything he’s done?”, Isabela scowled.

“Rivaini, she’s in love with him. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept by now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!?”, she snapped at him, her dusky skin and the dark of night successfully hiding the betraying blush.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone exclusive with Junior just because you’re shacking ‘regularly’? As in once in two weeks?”

“Twice”, she gritted out. “And I’m _not_ exclusive. I’m simply fed up with miscreants of this city.”

“I think you and Carver are a lovely couple”, Merrill chirped, clueless as ever.

“Let’s go look for a back entrance or something”, Isabela grumbled, leaving the front door and heading to circle the house.

“Even if we find it, we can’t get in…”, Merrill called after her.

“Let her blow off some steam by singeing her fingers a few more times”, Varric patted Merrill’s arm reassuringly.

They followed behind Isabela and found her standing beneath the wall which faced the inner part of the back yard. She was looking up at one of the high windows of the mansion, frowning.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?”, she pointed at the window.

Varric followed her gaze and saw a flickering light coming through the slightly moved curtains from inside the room.

“The elf is obviously home, what of it?”, he shrugged.

“Yeah, but does the fireplace or the lantern create such lighting effect?”

Varric focused more intently and realized that the light was indeed flickering weirdly. And it was mostly a bit too bright to come from the lit fire.

“Maybe he’s doing that angry glow thing of his”, he concluded.

“The mansion is sealed by magic”, Isabela continued, “and Fenris is angry glowing, which means…”, she pointedly turned to Varric.

“…Hawke is upstairs with him”, he finished her thought, worry etching his features.

“Someone is casting in there.”

Isabela and Varric turned in unison towards Merrill. She was staring at the window with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”, Isabela’s voice rose in alarm.

Merrill nodded.

“Shit! They’re fighting”, Varric stressed. “He’s glowing, she’s casting, we have to do something.”

“How? We can’t break in”, Isabela outstretched her arms helplessly. “And we definitely can’t climb that steep wall, there’s nothing to hold onto.”

“Daisy!”, Varric turned to her. “Of course! You can summon a vine and we’ll climb up there easy!”

“Oh”, she rose her brows at the dawning realization. “I can do that.”

Merrill approached the wall and planted her bare feet firmly into the grass-covered ground, then rose her arms up as if she was lifting something heavy, steadily rising from half-crouch. The depths of the earth rumbled softly around her, Varric and Isabela feeling the vibrations of it in their feet. Soon a few thick vines broke from the ground, making crunching and slithering sounds as they grew, entwining around Merrill’s legs and lovingly enfolding her lower body, and she settled into them in a sitting position, letting them lift her body from the ground.

“I’ll go up and see what’s going on first”, she said to Isabela and Varric and they nodded readily.

They beheld as the vine grew, twining and twisting upwards and carrying Merrill’s lithe body fairly swiftly towards the window. She stopped right by the side of the window, peeking in. Then she practically jerked away, as if afraid that someone would see her. She instructed the vine to bring her back down with a distinctive gesture, and the crown which held her body began to steadily bend down, creating a big, leafy arc. A thick part of the vine had remained plastered against the wall. When her feet touched the ground, the vine unwound itself and remained in place, immobile.

“Oh, Fenris is gonna _love_ this new addition to his yard”, Isabela shook off, smirking. “That was really impressive, Kitten”, she added honestly.

“Thanks”, Merrill beamed.

“Daisy, what’s happening up there?!?”, Varric rushed back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, uh…”, Merrill got awkwardly flustered in an instant. “They’re, ah…not fighting.”

Varric exhaled with relief.

“What’s causing that light show, then?”, Isabela nodded towards the still flickering window.

“Umm…” Merrill blushed so hard it was clearly visible even in the moonlight.

Isabela’s face broke into awed, exhilarated expression. “No”, she breathed out, on the verge of laughter.

“Wait”, Varric lifted up a hand. “You’re telling me that they’re getting it on up there?!?”

“Uhh, I…tried not to look too much…at the…parts”, Merrill managed to squeeze out, nearing spontaneous combustion.

“By the tits of my ancestors”, he threw his arms up, letting out a breath of relief. “Finally!”

The rustling sound had deterred Varric’s and Merrill’s attention and they turned to see Isabela starting to climb up the part of the vine which remained stuck against the wall.

“Rivaini, what are you doing?!?”, Varric hissed at her, mindful not to raise his voice too much.

“Are you kidding?!?”, she turned to him for a moment, grinning like a kid in a candy store. “ _This_ I have to see to believe it!”

Varric wavered for a moment, looking at Merrill. “Come to think of it… Daisy, you said that Hawke was casting? How could she do that if she’s, you know, busy doing other things?”

“Oh, well…”, Merrill managed to sound less verbally impaired this time. “It’s possible for a mage to have certain...outbursts, if they are very excited. But it usually happens only during the, ah, first time. Keeper Marethari explained that to me during my training so I would know not to, err, freak out when it happens.” She contemplated for a spell, and then added, “But, it’s harmless for the, uh, other participant! The…bodily contact marks the other person as mage’s own body so they’re unharmed. Only very young and inexperienced mages who hadn’t learned to control their magic are susceptible to harm both their partner and themselves.”

“Wow”, Varric turned towards the window, glancing at Isabela who was already halfway up the vine. “You mages really have it tough… Still, the elf must be damn good, considering that this definitely isn’t Hawke’s first time.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that”, Isabela snickered, struggling with the leafy vine. She was only a yard or so away from the window. “I learned a week ago that she never had sex with any of the Rose’s employees.”

“Come again?”, Varric frowned.

“It’s true”, she stopped her ascend, half-turning to him. “Katriela told me when I met her at the Lowtown market. It slipped to her, apparently, because she was complaining that Hawke was hurting everyone’s pride by constantly refusing sex. Then she made me swear not to tell anyone.”

“Good to know the depths of your trustworthiness, Rivaini”, Varric reprimanded.

“Oh, screw you”, she tossed back. “She was playing Diamondback and Wicked Grace with the prostitutes the whole time! How absurd is that?!?”

Varric shook off, baffled. “Well, I’ll be a nug’s uncle. What’s with that idiotic deception?” Inwardly he was wracked by guilt, remembering how everyone were accusing Hawke of whoring. And it turned out that she was… He scratched his head, glancing at Merrill and thinking about the ‘first time’ thing in earnest.

“I know, right?”, Isabela continued. “Who would guess that--“

“Uh…Isabela?”, Merrill interrupted her, pointing at the window.

The pirate turned her gaze up, hanging on the vine as if holding onto the mast rope of a ship.

Fenris was standing at the window, leaning out and holding onto the sill with outstretched arms. The sill reached his hips and Isabela gaped for a moment, seeing his upper body bare for the first time, the markings and muscles and all. He was still wearing his pants, unfortunately. She quickly recuperated from admiration however, noticing the elf’s murderous stare.

“Oh, hi Fenris!”, she waved to him, pasting a brilliant grin. “Welcome back! And may I say that you should _definitely_ go around shirtless all the time. We could charge for ogling!”

Varric facepalmed audibly.

In the next instant, Hawke showed up by his side, hair in disarray and wearing a house gown which was buttoned up only so much to cover her chest. She slapped a hand onto the sill, taking in the view of everything.

“The fuck?!?”, she shouted, making everyone except Fenris wince. “What are you, twelve-year-olds?!?”

“Hawke”, Varric rose his palms plaintively, “this _really_ isn’t what it looks like.”

As a response, she reached beside Fenris and grabbed the top branch of the vine at the wall. A crackling swoop of ice had encased the entire vine in seconds, starting from her hand. Varric jumped away as ice swallowed the edge of the vine’s arc, inches from his foot.

“Oh, shit!”, Isabela yelped, trying to grab onto the slippery, crystallized pillar. Hawke's face twisted in effort and she stiffened, releasing a kinetic blast which ran throughout the entire frozen structure, shattering it with a loud burst of a dozen fallen crystal chandeliers. Flying chunks of ice were caught in the blast, dissipating into glittery flakes and riming the whole back yard.

Isabela landed on the ground with an inglorious thud. “Aaah! Hawke, you bitch!”, she cried out, grasping at her leg. “My pretty leg…dammit, I think it’s broken”, she whined as Merrill and Varric ran up to her.

“I was actually aiming for your neck so consider yourself lucky”, Hawke managed, breathing heavily from exhaustion. “Varric, I’m holding _you_ responsible for this horseshit. Take Isabela to Anders to heal her. And Merrill?”, she shook off. “I’m really disappointed in you.”

Merrill cringed, crestfallen. “Hawke, we really… We wanted to greet Fenris when we learned that he came back, and then I sensed magic coming from his room and we thought that you two were fighting!”

The fury seeped out somewhat from Hawke’s face. In turn, Fenris straightened sharply, frowning at the elven girl. “I would never harm her, witch”, now it was his turn to growl.

“Well yeah, we know that _now”,_ Varric scowled, leaning Isabela onto himself. The pirate was ignoring everybody, cursing abundantly under her breath and shifting her weight on one leg.

Hawke released a heavy sigh and palmed her forehead. “Ugh, just…go away already.”

As Varric dragged the limping Isabela around the corner, Merrill returned a few steps and looked up at the indisposed pair. “Uh, guys? Don’t worry about the magical shifts while you’re…you know”, she grinned sheepishly. “Everyone are put out with that the first time, but it’s harmless, I swear! Enjoy! Bye!”

She waved tersely and then quickly skittered away, leaving the pair in question additionally stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Tevene:  
> Par fero gloris - beauty displayed in exquisite form  
> Fastede mari - damn you woman  
> Eritis bei ame periam - you are truly my disaster  
> 


	7. ...And then it hit me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the pause has been so long I had nearly forgotten about this story. But I have decided to continue it, even though my main focus is my other story about F!Hawke and Fenris, Lyrium Fragments. Whoever was patient enough to wait for it, well, I'll have you know that waiting always pays off in my case, hehe. I just hope the gap between chapters won't be as big as thus far. :P  
> Comments and suggestions are welcome, as usual.

 

Fenris stood at the window, feeling as if the whole house was slowly crumbling down and the floor was caving beneath his feet. The only other thing he managed to register was Marian’s movement; she walked away softly, like a shadow, back to the fireplace and sat down on the rug in front of it. Utter dismay radiated from her – for good reason.

He felt like the failure of the century. Their companions’ first guess was that they were _fighting,_ that he was _assaulting_ Marian – because there wasn’t any reason to presume the reverse, nor Maker forbid, to presume that they were actually embracing each other. She would never do him harm, he fucking _knew_ it, and he still failed to hold onto that knowledge when magic was thrown into his face in the moment when he was vulnerable the most.

But was he truly vulnerable in front of Marian? He realized that his guard was never fully laid down. Saying that he trusted her was true, but his actions spoke the exact opposite. He was hurting the person who sincerely cared for him, the only person ever who felt this way towards him, and he...

Fenris wanted to bash his head against the wall until his skull cracked. He was convinced that he had thoroughly thought this through on his three-week hiatus, but apparently his fears and traumas were so strong that he wasn’t able to fully deal with them. His gaze turned on its own towards the powerful, yet oh so gentle female, sitting in front of the fireplace curled into herself. If there was anyone who could ever help him deal with his inner conflicts, it was her. And he kept rejecting and hurting her.

Fucking magic. Was it so disastrous a feat that he wasn’t able to see past it? Yes. But he should have known better. He knew that he was able to be better than that. He was ready to embrace it, for Marian’s sake...and also for his own. Living in constant fear and angst was getting tiresome. He was losing what little he managed to gather of himself, given his crippled memory. He even fucking stated that Marian was more important to him than his own fears.

He needed so much to finally relax. Too much. He wasn’t able to fathom if anyone who managed even a part of Marian’s achievements would give this kind of leniency to someone as ungrateful as he was. He wasn’t only hurting her feelings – he was also hurting her pride.

And judging by her current mood and everything that had happened tonight, he had reached the end of the line. It was so much like him, really; to realize the error in his ways only when it was too late. Just like he realized what he had done only after he slaughtered the Fog warriors, the only people who were good to him before Marian. Is that the only kind of „gratefulness“ he was capable of for receiving care and compassion?

Fenris suddenly felt filthy, he loathed himself. The feeling was familiar, like when he was forced to suck Danarius’s cock. The sexual abuse didn’t go any further than that, thank the Maker, but the memory was still there. Did his subconsciousness actually compare Marian to Danarius?!? The very thought was more horrible than everything else.

 

„Are you okay?“

Marian’s gentle voice broke the eerie silence. His heart seized so fiercely he thought he’d die. She turned in her spot where she sat, looked at him with concerned, tired eyes, and asked _him_ if _he_ was okay. After everything he had done...

He approached her slowly, on stiffened legs, and sat next to her. She was so beautiful. Her hair, the testimony of survived pain, so much like his own, was glowing in the light of the fireplace. Her deep, clear eyes were looking at him with sincere concern, even though fatigue was obvious. The scent of her was the most delightful thing he ever sensed, and even her magical energy transferred earlier onto his own body, had brought him pleasure he never knew was possible. He wasn’t worthy of her.

„No“, he rasped through the constricted throat.

Her face hardened. „I figured as much. Look, Fenris... This whole night was a complete disaster. You shouldn’t force yourself...well, _I_ don’t want you to force yourself to do anything you’re not ready to do. Come to think of it, perhaps...we shouldn’t do anything like this ever again.“

He swallowed a lump that felt like hot coal. „I understand.“ He fully deserved her rejection.

Marian’s face became colored with sorrow. It was a nearly unbearable sight. She nodded, somehow pulling off a weak smile. „I think it’s better that way. You’ll live, for one. You won’t have to face some horrible disaster because you’re close to me, not like everyone else did.“

Fenris’s insides suddenly burst to flames. She was talking about her „curse“ again. It finally dawned to him how deep her conviction about it went. She was wonderful, glorious, and such a stupid thing was never supposed to marr her bright soul.

„Marian, you are not cursed.“

She didn’t give any sign that she even heard him.

„Look at me“, he infused sturdiness into his voice and took hold of her wrist.

Her face snapped towards his, bewildered and slightly afraid, and sparks of electricity immediately sprang around the place where he caught her. It didn’t sting, not even close. He only felt that same tingling, warm sensation...and it was even comforting.

“That curse bullshit is just your way of coping with deaths of all those people you loved”, he continued, completely ignoring the magical display, even though the sparks were now engulfing his arm up to the elbow. “I know better than anyone what mental trauma can do to the spirit, to one’s sanity. I am so fucked up because of it, that I can’t even grasp the obvious, how lovely you are and that I should cherish the very ground you walk upon for loving someone as unworthy as I am.”

Fenris adjusted his grip by slipping his hand onto Marian’s, holding tight even though electrical currents now swirled around their contact like thin, glowing snakes, faintly hissing. “Don’t do that to yourself”, he continued. “I’ve already said earlier, everyone is responsible for their own fate, and such as you are, you can only make other people’s lives better, not the opposite. The misfortune that happens is not your fault. It can never be your fault. And what happened tonight…it’s _my_ fault. You did nothing wrong.”

Marian was crying again. She kept looking into his eyes as tears streamed down her face like raindrops on the window during a downpour. The electrical current on their hands had subsided, as if drowned in those tears. He had never seen her cry before tonight and the very sight was scorching him from inside. He was making her cry, when all she deserved was to smile and be happy. He definitely couldn’t feel more wretched than he did in that moment.

“I…I don’t know what to think anymore”, she managed, obviously trying to steady her voice. She pulled her hand from his and embraced her knees. “Do you love me? Do you hate me? Am I influencing you in a bad way? Am I instigating conflict inside of you, instead of making you feel better? Am I feeling drawn to you just because we share traumatic experiences, is it actually some twisted type of kinship?”

“There is that, but it’s not the main thing…at least _I_ don’t feel that way”, he tried. “Marian, would you… It’s too much to ask at this point, but… Would you give me another chance? I want you to be happy, and if you already care for me so, then…I will do my damnedest to give you all the happiness you deserve, and more. If I fail…know that it will never be your fault.”

Marian blinked a few times, her long lashes sparkling from tears. She had stopped crying, and looked at Fenris as if she was seeing him for the first time. After a pause that seemed like forever, she unexpectedly smirked.

“That wording is so like you. ‘I will do my damnedest’”, she emphasized, and even giggled a little. Then she sighed deeply, her chest moving upwards; that gown of hers wasn’t fully buttoned up… Her shapely breasts and the dim glow of her skin were so inviting, that-- _Venhedis, Fenris! Focus._

“My mind is in disarray after this whole clusterfuck”, she said, her sober tone contradicting the statement. “I don’t trust myself to think rationally right now, so you’ll get no answer tonight.”

Fenris grinned, feeling as if a boulder had rolled off him. He didn’t get an answer, but Marian was back – the true Marian, _his—_

He shook off, willing himself to keep it together. “Fair enough.”

She looked at him sideways, as she did only when some mischief was on her mind. “However, I would appreciate if you let me stay over.”

He didn’t respond immediately, momentarily surprised by this amazing recovery.

“I mean, you could just…hold me while I sleep”, she added, tucking a stranded lock of hair behind her ear. “I really need some comfort right now.”

Fenris was torn between feeling happy because she wanted to stay, and feeling dejected because she needed comforting to begin with, him being the reason of her stress and all. Either way, he was bought before she even mentioned the comforting part.

“It’s the least I can do”, he replied, without dropping the grin.

“Behave”, she wagged a finger at him, causing his grin to widen.

 


	8. He behaved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smooth sailing in this one. Not about to give you any spoilers for next ones ;)

 

Marian was still reeling from everything that had happened tonight, as she entered Fenris’s bathroom, adjacent to his quarters. She washed her tear-smeared face and drank some fresh water, feeling instant relief. She hated crying. She wanted to punch Fenris several times in earnest for bringing her to that shameful state. But seeing him get so dejected and compliant was enough to keep her distress at bay. It was an amazing transformation – one she hoped for, but hadn’t honestly expected.

She leaned onto the washing basin, exhaling audibly. Her love for that complicated elf was stronger than anything she had felt before, and the strain was starting to take its toll. She wanted to believe his statement about a second chance, but ultimately – was it worth it? It was clear that _something_ was happening to him due to their connection, but how long until he snaps again because of her magic? It didn’t seem to bother him when he held her electrified hand earlier, and he even seemed to enjoy it when they were cuddling. How long would it last if she gives in this time?

This state of mind was unfamiliar to her. She has always been the one who takes initiative and never shies away from challenges. Why was she constantly shrinking into herself? Was it all really up to Fenris? The change in his mindset was caused by the awkward mess their friends had made – _I should actually apologize to the three of them, ah fuck –_ because he had realized what an asshole he’s been, basically... But there was also something else. It was _her._ Her initiative, and everything she was, with magic in tow. Tonight she’s been way too soft towards him, and that weakness had apparently given room to Fenris to freak out.

Marian straightened. _I’m not weak. I’m not coy, either. So what if I’m a virgin? This is ridiculous._ Fenris had fallen for the strong woman she is, not for the whining pile of goo that she was turning into every time he advanced on her. And even if it doesn’t prove effective...she wasn’t about to distort herself for the sake of anyone, not even Fenris. It will hurt, but she would know that it was in vain after all. And maybe it would be better that way. His arguments regarding her cursed streak of bad luck were somewhat sound, but she wasn’t easily convinced, not when there was solid proof of her presence linked with ensuing misfortune for as long as her memory reached. Then again...maybe Fenris was able to actually break the curse?

She shook off. He wasn’t able to overcome his own turmoil, let alone hers. She should have never pursued him, especially not to this point. Losing him would hurt, but being alive and well definitely beats being hers for a time and then dead.

She hugged herself on impulse. It would hurt _a lot._

Perhaps she should have gone home tonight...

 

A soft knock on the bathroom door had interrupted her inner musings.

„Come in, I’m decent.“ Her voice was completely steady now.

Fenris had opened the door and remained standing in the doorway, looking at her with a puzzled expression. He was so beautiful. Still shirtless, boasting that work of art that was his whole body. His impossibly green eyes were glowing in the dim light, concern and affection radiating from them. _Yeah, it would hurt so bad._

„You were in here for a long time, so I got worried. Sorry for intruding“, Fenris vied for being polite.

She gave him a weak smile. „I got lost in my thoughts.“

He sighed, appearing crestfallen, and leaned onto the doorpost. „Decided to make a decision now after all?“

She smirked to his insecure tone. „Not really. It’s just my mind being restless. If you know how to stop it, be my guest.“

As a reply to her jest, Fenris detached himself from the doorpost, walked over and kissed her. He cupped the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair, and freely deepened the kiss for a sweet, lingering moment.

The ease with which he had done it, and her instant responsiveness, had left Marian stunned. And her mind had actually stopped turning and tumbling assumptions and facts like a storm bashing waves on the sea. Now it was suddenly clear weather.

„Better?“, he asked calmly, as if kissing her was a perfectly normal thing to do. As if his hand in her hair and the other one at her waist were normal posture when he was near her. So near that only a breath lingered between them.

Marian squinted at him. „You evil elf.“

Looking completely content with himself, he took a step back. „I apologize if I overstepped... It felt like the right thing to do.“

And it really was. Only she would never say it out loud.

„I’m...sure you need the bathroom“, she managed to find composure. „I’m going to bed.“

She didn’t wait to see the wicked expression that started forming on his face, leaving quickly to the room and closing the door behind her. Her damn lips were still tingling.

The fireplace steered her attention; the logs were burnt to cinders and ash, and the cold had started creeping into the room. She took a few more fresh logs from the nearby pile and threw them into the hearth, then flung a magical spark which had lit them instantly. She didn’t give a damn about her magical displays anymore. If Fenris was willing to give this a chance, he was going to accept it completely.

The bed was huge. It didn’t have posts like hers at her home, but it compensated in size. It was neatly made, and the closer she got to it, the more intense Fenris’s scent was becoming. She slid under the covers and it was like diving into Heaven. The sheets were a bit cold, but the bed was just the right combination of soft and hard, and that scent had engulfed her like Fenris’s embrace. Her body instantly relaxed and she released a sigh of contentment.

After a while, she heard the bathroom door open, when she realized her eyes were shut and she was halfway to falling asleep. So she opened them.

Wide.

Fenris has exited the bathroom butt naked. _Butt._ His back was turned to her so she didn’t see the front, but the back... Those lyrium markings were twining along his ass – his gorgeous, plump ass _–_ and down his preposterously shapely legs, to the soles of his feet. They were faintly illuminated and pulsing, which made Fenris look like some ethereal being. He was carelessly rummaging through his wardrobe, as if she wasn’t there. She could only gape, while he eventually found a pair of cotton trousers, his sleeping attire apparently, and pulled them on, tying the string so they hung loosely beneath his waist.

He turned and walked over to the bed, giving her a gentle smile. „Still awake?“, he said while slipping beneath the covers. He settled at an arm’s reach, facing her.

She was silent for a long time, staring at him in disbelief.

„You’re doing this on purpose.“

His brows rose, all but innocently. „What?“

„Strolling around naked“, her tone hardened.

„I’m in my home“, he replied defensively. „I dislike sleeping in outdoors clothes. Although I’m sorry if my bareness has disturbed you“, he added flatly.

_Oh you’ve disturbed me, alright._

„It was...unexpected“, she concluded, relaxing a bit.

„Sorry.“

He was anything but sorry. She grinned, going with the flow. „Well, I had an eyeful.“

His smile was slow in response. „I’m glad you still find me attractive...despite everything.“

He was playing dirty and he knew it. He had every right to do so, given that she was in his bed and all. Ultimately, he was very interested in her – _despite everything._ Marian knew that she had already forgiven him, even though she shouldn’t have. _That’s how love works, I guess._

She let out a deep sigh. “Come here.”

She opened her arms and Fenris scooted to her, enfolding her in an incredibly comfy embrace. As if it hadn’t melted her completely, he also started gently petting her hair.

“Thank you”, she heard the soft, deep rasp of his voice, resonating through his chest which was beneath her head.

“What for?”

“For staying tonight. For not outright rejecting me.”

She was silent for some time. It wasn’t so difficult to focus anymore.

“Thank you as well.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “I can’t imagine what I should be thanked for.”

“For admitting what a dick you were.”

He hugged her more tightly and kissed the top of her head. “That’s my Marian”, he whispered barely audibly.

 


	9. The evening after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too short? Nope, it's just the calm before the storm :)

 

Varric was in a crappy mood.

Business was doing well. And there ended the list of good news for today.

Blondie was devastated; last night he patched up Rivaini while trying to conceal his eyes bloodshot from crying, because a patient had died on him only hours before – a little girl from the Undercity. He was far from interested in the cause of this injury so no one even mentioned it. _Talk about fucking timing._

Speaking of the feisty pirate, she had sauced herself to the point of collapsing after she’s been healed, and when she awoke around noon, she stormed out of Hanged Man with a murderously cold expression on her face, and hadn’t yet returned. For a moment there, Varric was worried that she’d go and challenge Hawke to a duel or something. However, there was no word of any clusterfuck from his informants. Well, not _yet._

And Daisy? Utter depression. She even refused to let him in her home and remained cooped up in there for the rest of the day.

The _best_ part was Aveline’s visit and a plethora of reprimands about the “strange noise” in Hightown last night. She managed to cover the incident with Hawke’s good-doer reputation of rooting out bandits, but she was livid nevertheless when she learned what was the real cause of the commotion. She took Hawke’s side completely. Aside the fact that Aveline is scary as the Void itself when angry, he had genuinely felt like shit already.

Thankfully, Choir Boy didn’t drop by to add to chastising as well. Varric suspected that either he’d eventually burst a vessel from righteous sermonizing, or the converted prince would end up with a bolt in his butt cheek.

 

Sometime after dusk, he decided to go to Hawke and properly apologize, evaluating that twenty-four hours should be enough for things to cool down at least a little bit.

While descending to the main floor of the Hanged Man, he scanned the crowd out of habit – and froze on the spot only two steps from the landing. He spotted Hawke, sitting alone at the team’s favorite table in the corner. There was a mug of ale in front of her, her chin supported by her hand, leaned to the tabletop. Her expression was totally unreadable, blank, and she stared into nothing.

Laden with pinpricks of tension, Varric approached her. She didn’t register his presence even when he neared to her side at practically an arm’s reach. Her ale was untouched and the foam had long receded, so she must have sat there for quite a while. Swallowing a hard lump, he braced for the worst news regarding the development with the angsty elf.

He cleared his throat and Hawke abruptly seized, finally spotting him. “Varric! Oh…hey”, she managed, still a little out of it.

“Hey”, he tried to smile. He occupied the spot on the bench next to her. She didn’t show any hint of annoyance at that, which might actually be a good sign. Hawke has always been fairly telling with her moods.

And then she called Edwina for one more ale. Varric’s brows rose; was she actually in a _good_ mood?

“Hawke”, he started immediately, “I want to apologize for what happened last night. I had no idea—”

She held up a hand, cutting off his sentence. Edwina landed the fresh ale in front of him and Hawke took her mug to clunk at his. “Cheers”, she smirked and downed a hefty gulp. Varric followed suit, stupefied.

She sighed deeply, suddenly appearing completely about her wits. “I should apologize as well. I shouldn’t have acted so rashly. I know you’ve been worried about me, my friend”, she patted his hand.

Varric’s heart melted at this unexpected turn. The tension was swept aside, as if he was dug out of an avalanche.

“Hey, the whole operation wasn’t entirely discreet, so let’s split the blame. How’s that?”, he beamed at her.

Hawke chuckled. “No wonder your business is booming. I’ll take it.”

They toasted again and Varric was now finally back on track.

“I hope Izzy isn’t too mad at me”, she murmured.

“Rivaini has this nasty habit of sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong”, he grinned. “She’s a pro at it, in fact. Blondie had healed her perfectly… Now there’s only her pride to deal with.”

Hawke grimaced. “Is that even possible?”

“It’s gonna be fine, she knows damn well she’s been overly intrusive”, Varric patted her shoulder.

“And Merrill?”, Hawke made a sincerely sorrowful face.

“Ah… You might want to talk to her personally.”

Hawke nodded, fully acquainted with the sensitive heart of their Dalish friend.

“So…?” Varric gestured impatiently, implying the outcome of last night.

Suddenly, Hawke’s face reverted back to the previous blank, unreadable expression and an aimless stare to the side. Witnessing the sharp change, Varric panicked a bit.

“Please don’t tell me we fucked it up.”

Hawke blinked and immediately dispersed the weird stupor again. “Nope, it actually helped. Fenris finally realized that he’d been acting as the bad guy, when you practically shoved his fault into his face by expressing concern for me.”

Varric inwardly did a double-take. “Wow. How ‘bout that… The elf has some sense after all.”

“And I also realized that I’ve been doing this all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”, he frowned.

“The whoring deception. Being insecure and all that shit.”

“Ah…yeah”, Varric squeezed out, remembering the previous misunderstanding as well. “Sorry for pressing you about that earlier… I had no idea that you were actually…you know.”

“A virgin?”, Hawke raised a brow at him.

He exhaled in a rush. “Fuck, Hawke. That’s not such a big deal! I mean, true, you’re probably the oldest non-Chantry virgin I’ve ever met… Uh, aside from Marlow, but he’s a special case… Still, I really admire you for—”

“Stop right there”, she pointed her finger at him. He stopped. “There’s nothing to admire. I was an idiot and that’s it. But that’s over and done. And if you wonder, there are no more deceptions. You can’t imagine how bad I feel for lying for so long.”

Varric was staring at Hawke in disbelief. He did believe her in fact, and what she said was welcoming. She even managed to put a stop to his doubts which inevitably would have formed.

“Thanks, Hawke.”

She smiled at him, and he knew all was well.

Except…

“So, how is Fenris dealing with your ‘chaste’ situation?”, he asked before taking a sip of ale. He scanned the crowd for a while…and realized there was no feedback from Hawke. He turned to her, only to see that damn blank expression again. It was beyond eerie. She’d never acted like that before.

“Hawke?”, he tried, seriously concerned.

His concern intensified when she didn’t show any sign of dispersing the stupor this time. “Hey… If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine… You know I don’t mean to poke—”

Hawke suddenly grinned from ear to ear. In fact, if there weren’t for ears, she’d be grinning around her head.

 


	10. Crazy is the new normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a digression. That’s all the warning I’ll give. The rest is in the story’s rating ;)

 

Hawke awoke unpleasantly, to say the least.

Fenris was glowing all over, shivering, seizing and thrashing around, covered in cold sweat, and moaning in such a pained manner that she never heard before, even when his injuries in battle demanded so. While tumbling, he managed to land a few solid hits at her; the first was a forearm to the head, which was what woke her. The hits were insignificant comparing to the horrible sight: he was obviously experiencing a soul-wrenching nightmare.

After a while of yelling and wrestling, Hawke finally succeeded in waking Fenris. It manifested as a sharp growl from him and a burst of spiritual energy. There was no way to not feel this injury. She may have earned a few bruises while wrestling with him, but spiritual energy was far more damaging. The blast of it had thrown her away and off the bed. The scorching sensation had seeped into her chest and stomach and she cried out, unable to move from the spot on the floor, where she fell.

Tears started spilling immediately, more as a reaction of an injured body than actual pain. She had trouble catching air and her insides were burning. Fenris’s enemies who had the displeasure of receiving the full brunt of his spiritual flash were usually wounded to the point of imminent death. Hawke had enough sense to cast an energy shield around herself halfway through struggling to wake Fenris, else she’d end up the same as any enemy. This blast was particularly intense and her shield broke under it, yet it saved her enough not to die on the spot.

“Marian!!!”, she heard Fenris’s terrified cry, and saw rather than felt him picking her up and placing her back on the bed. Her body was rapidly becoming numb. _Not good._

Fenris was frantically mumbling something in Tevene, she barely registered it. He ripped open the entire front of her gown to inspect the damage, and his face instantly blanched. Hawke didn’t have enough strength to raise her head and look at it, but she knew how spiritual damage appeared on the body: dark, grey stains, testimony that the flesh has started to rot. Spiritual flash never affected anything which isn’t alive in some sense or form – anything that doesn’t contain spirit, to be precise – so she imagined that all except her bare body was intact.

It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe and she tried to cough. Her throat filled with something which dreadfully tasted too much like blood.

“Marian, you have to heal yourself”, Fenris clasped her face with both of his trembling hands, as gently as he could. They felt hot on her chilled skin. “Please”, he added barely audibly, his eyes filling with tears, spilling out right away. She stared for a moment, seeing his tears for the first time. _Wow._

She had to remind herself that she was probably _dying_ and yes, she absolutely _had_ to heal herself.

“I…”, she croaked, coughed again. Something which was most certainly blood had spilled out of the corner of her mouth.

“Tell me what to do”, Fenris urged her. “There’s no time to get Anders. I know you have some healing powers, please let it be enough…”

Hawke tried to shake off, moved her head only barely. The numbness had taken over almost completely. “I need…”, she rasped through the blood in her throat, “…more power…can’t…weak…” Her mind was becoming fuzzy as well. She fought with every ounce of her inner strength to stay conscious.

“Use my lyrium”, Fenris demanded. Her eyes widened at that. “Now, Hawke! Please”, he cried out and enveloped her in an embrace.

She felt, more than saw, Fenris’s markings starting to radiate sheer mana. It felt like waves of lyrium, gushing out from his body and spilling onto hers. Without a second thought, she started soaking the mana, focused on using it to heal herself.

There was _so much_ of it, and even in that wrecked state she reveled in its intensity. The pure mana was pouring into her body through physical touch, and soon she realized that her arms were wrapped around Fenris’s torso, clutching for dear life – literally. She had no idea that she was able to heal herself so efficiently from such a grave wound, but then again, she had never ingested such a large, pure amount of lyrium before. It felt so intoxicatingly good, invigorating, sweet, heady…

_Maker almighty. I’m syphoning him like a leech! Just like…Danarius did…_

“Stop!”, Hawke yelled and shoved Fenris away. Incidentally, she also released a blast of kinetic energy and it was his turn to fly off the bed and hit the floor.

“Oh, shit.”

She scrambled off the bed, spat the ghastly remainder of the blood out of her mouth and ran to Fenris. He was lying on his back on floorboards, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. Hawke touched for injuries, but apparently there were none. He was just…stunned.

She palmed the side of his face. “You okay?”

He thoroughly eyed her front, completely bare because her gown has been ripped. “Good… You’re healed”, he exhaled heavily.

“I am”, she acknowledged. Giving herself a quick inward once-over, she concluded that she was perfectly fine. The previous nearly lethal experience now seemed like just a bad dream. _A bad dream…_

“That was one heck of a nightmare”, she smirked, smoothing his hair.

He turned sharply to her. “I nearly killed you”, he gritted out.

_Here we go again._

“Yet you didn’t.”

Fenris swiftly got up off the floor and went to the table, took the big pitcher with water and immediately drained half. Then he wordlessly handed it to her, and went to the bathroom. Hawke welcomed the nourishment, yet another issue weighed heavily on her. She knew very well how it felt to be the cause of death of her loved ones, and this was a near thing. Fenris must’ve felt horrible now.

When he exited the bathroom, they switched and she went in to relieve herself. There was some blood; it must’ve been the residue of her insides nearly decomposing. She marveled at her own ability to heal, and remembered how Fenris’s “help” felt... She washed her face and tried to think of something sensible and reassuring to say to her complicated elf.

 _My elf._ She grinned for a moment. Her gown was torn open and she was naked save for her panties. It dawned to her that being naked in front of Fenris felt so…normal. Natural. She shrugged off the ruined garment and went back to the room.

He was lying on the bed, his upper body nearly upright and supported by the pillows stuffed against the headboard. He seemed deep in thought, expectedly grim expression on his face. When he turned and saw her, she could clearly see the flash of want and awe in his eyes…but it was quickly smothered by grimness.

“I’m sorry, Marian. I know an apology is hardly enough, but…”

“Hush”, she shook off and approached, climbed onto the bed and sat next to him. He followed her movements like a wary wild animal.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh? Do you see someone else here who tried to kill you this morning?”

_Yep, he’s getting his brooding on to the max._

“Whatever or whoever you dreamt of was at fault…and the real victim of that assault was you, not me.”

Pure dread passed through Fenris’s features; he was remembering the nightmare. He swallowed and continued. “I…sincerely appreciate your understanding, but it’s more than clear that being with me…isn’t safe.”

Hawke actually wanted to agree on this one – except what he meant was the reverse of the true situation. She never feared for her own life, not even just now when she really could have died. What she feared the most was that Fenris, and all her loved ones, would suffer because of it. Sometimes she chastised herself for that idiotic logic, when rational thinking would take over. However, the pain of loss has been ingrained in her so deeply that she spontaneously started putting the well-being of her loved ones in front of hers. And she was unable to change that mindset.

“Fenris”, she took his hand and acquired his full attention. “We’re in this together, remember?”

His expression was torment. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you. How can I make you happy if you’re not safe with me?”

She shrugged, smirking. “Since when is life safe? Maker knows mine has never been, and probably never will be. I don’t expect you to make me feel safe, I just want to be…wanted. Needed. Maybe, I don’t know…even loved.”

Fenris stared at her incredulously. He didn’t show any intention to respond anytime soon, so she continued.

“My powers…I strive to use them beneficiary, even if everyone keeps saying that magic is a curse. I hope you realize that they’ve been very useful in this particular situation. If I was…’normal’…I would’ve been dead. And not just now, but many times in the past.” Fenris’s face hardened, and she clenched his hand harder. “You know very well that I’m made of strong stuff. You can count on me. You can trust me. I swear to you, I’ll never do any of the things you’ve experienced with mages, or _people_ for that matter… Earlier when you gave me your mana, I… It was scary, overwhelming. It felt extremely good as well, yet I felt guilty for taking it from you…”

She was getting tangled and she wanted to smack herself up the head for being such a verbal klutz when it truly mattered. The chaos in her head was making her angry and overly tense.

She let go of Fenris’s hand and turned sharply from him. “Fuck it. I’m not any good at this. I can’t seem to explain… And frankly, if you’re so bent on constantly pointing out at why we _shouldn’t_ be together, then I guess it’s not worth it. Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Best for whom?”

She turned, surprised at Fenris’s harsh tone. His expression was equally admonishing. And she realized the point of his question.

“I see. So…you still want to be with me after all?”, she asked coolly, if a bit irked.

“Of course I do”, he stated matter-of-factly. “I just don’t want to put you in danger, Marian. You nearly died because of me! You have no idea how torn I feel”, he palmed his eyes and threw his head back onto the pillow. “ _Fasta insigni_ … I don’t care if you use them, take my mana if you need it, you’re welcome to it. I thought I would be disgusted by the act, but I was actually glad…eager, even.”

He removed the hand from his face and looked at her. His eyes were red from suppressed tears. “Do you want to know what I dreamt about? What the nightmare was?”

She nodded and leaned on the pillow beside him. “Tell me. I’m here for you.”

He turned on his side, facing her, and clasped her waist with his hand. “Thank you. It’s not easy to relive it again.”

“The nightmare is repetitive”, he began, “and it’s actually a myriad of memories. It happens occasionally. I dream of the moment when I received the markings. Every time, I clearly feel enchanted knives cutting into my flesh and raw lyrium being embedded into the wounds… I can’t explain the intensity of that pain. It...consumes me. Sometimes I feel as if I could see beyond it, as if I could remember who I was before, but the pain blocks everything. And then I see Danarius, grinning at my agony, smug about his accomplishment. The dream tears and tosses me further into terrible situations. I see Hadriana treating me like a dog, verbally humiliating me as if my status wasn’t low enough, kicking me and forcing me to eat from a bowl on the ground. Sometimes she openly pleasured herself while I was chained to the floor and forced to lick her feet. Then I see Danarius…forcing me to suck him off, violently tugging at my hair, ripping into my throat, nearly choking me with his filthy semen. Once he did it in front of the guests. They arranged an orgy, and since no one was allowed to touch me but Danarius and Hadriana, they took their pleasure by humiliating me, laughed at me. I was slimy all over from ejaculations of various men. I was never, _never_ able to defend myself because Danarius had complete control over me via blood magic. And yes, I’ve witnessed him, all of them, murder people for blood… Poor slaves who pleaded for their lives. Their screams… I never screamed. I just endured. I had to obey everything. I was Danarius’s personal portable bag of lyrium. I killed on his command. The faces of Fog Warriors still haunt me, their devastated expressions at my betrayal… I had no sense to distinguish friend from foe. I continue killing them in my dreams, even though I scream at myself to stop, just _stop…_ But my own voice doesn’t reach me. I was merely a trained possession, not a person. And even though it’s all behind me now…I can’t escape the nightmarish memories. I can’t…put them to rest. I try, but…they return when I least expect it. Whenever I manage to relax, feel content, even if just a little bit…I’m reminded of what I’ve been, what I’ve done. As if I don’t have the fucking right to be happy at all.”

Fenris’s voice faded away and he closed his eyes, tears soundlessly rolling into the pillow. Hawke persisted beyond the limits of her endurance not to cry as well, even though her soul was burning with compassion, sorrow, and sheer outrage. She needed to be composed for him. She needed to think rationally, to help him.

For one, she finally managed to fully understand Fenris’s attitude regarding Danarius and Hadriana, and accordingly joined him in hatred and desire for vengeance. She gently petted his hair, soundlessly offering comfort and praise for the strength which was surely needed to speak of all this.

“I admire you.”

Fenris opened his eyes, giving her a surprised look.

“I’m amazed at how strong you are, Fenris. I can’t think of anyone who’d be capable to survive what you did. Amidst all that horror, you had your wits about you and enough determination to escape and fight for normal existence. These”, she palmed the markings on his chest, “are not shameful wounds. They are decorations of honor, the proof of your strength and endurance. The nightmares haunt you because you’re still not at peace with yourself…but you should be. You are magnificent, love. You survived and you are now the master of your own fate. And Danarius _will_ die”, she added in a sharper tone. “I will be by your side when that happens.”

Fenris was silent for some time, looking into Hawke’s eyes with no obvious intent. He seemed drained, but not of strength. She was able to sense what was missing: fear, spite, all the usual defenses.

“ _Vossent oculi radient martyrum…ashante fulcur, quevent sin tenebris._ ”

It was always a pleasure to hear him speak in Tevene. This sentence was somewhat longer than anything he had ever directed to her – and the context was very intriguing.

“What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “A momentary inspiration.”

“Oh, come on.”

He snickered. “It means that you’re using your magic well, even when you’re not using it.”

That was confusing. And not an explanation in the least. “…What?”

Never dropping the grin, he clasped her into an embrace and she welcomed it. His skin was warm, and his heart was beating steadily against her chest. She smiled into his neck and kissed the lyrium vein beneath her cheek. Without giving it much thought, she wrapped her leg around his hip and pressed in, seeking a comfortable position…and then felt something rather interesting.

Fenris had a raging hardon, despite his calm façade. She admired his respect for her, suspecting that he wasn’t advancing simply because she had a _very bad_ awakening merely an hour or so ago.

_How sweet. But I’m not having any of that continence anymore._

Hawke started kissing his neck, while rubbing her pelvis against that heavenly hardness. Fenris grunted, tightening his embrace for a moment and meeting Hawke’s movements…and then he gripped her hip and stopped her.

“Marian”, he gave her a look of warning, even though his expression was heavily colored with lust.

“What?”, she blinked innocently. “You have something very nice down here”, she reached between them and slid a finger along his shaft trough the thin cotton of his bottoms. Fenris’s breath hitched, and the thing in question jumped against her finger. “I think it’s begging for attention”, she smiled.

“You want…after everything…?”, he was still protesting, even though he didn’t try to move her hand.

“I already told you”, she whispered against his lips. “I’m made of strong stuff.”

 

 

The bed looked like gaatlok had exploded in it.

Hawke was constantly conjuring electricity, which Fenris claimed wasn’t hurtful at all, but actually _stimulating,_ to her utter delight. However, electrical currents weren’t so gentle towards the sheets; they were singed, and eventually set aflame when a few sparks of fire slipped out as well. So Hawke had to cast some ice here and there to douse them.

She was mesmerized by the markings adorning Fenris’s shaft, and she simply _had_ to lick them. Fenris came like geyser in the instant she enveloped him whole with her mouth. She completely ignored his warnings, and savored the tangy, metallic taste. And he was far from softening, so they continued of course. In turn, Hawke came after only several flicks of Fenris’s tongue on her most sensitive flesh – the devious elf had managed to instantly find the clitoris – and that’s when the headboard caught fire. A heartbeat after, it was frozen solid, and that wasn’t on purpose.

Penetration had hurt. In fact, it hurt like mad. Spiritual damage was a slight pinch comparing to a busted hymen. Fenris was super-gentle and insisted on stopping, yet Hawke was goading him to continue when she felt the thin membrane at her entrance starting to rip. She endured a few slides back and forth so she’d be sure it’s gone completely, and then she cast healing magic on herself. She released a sigh of relief at the disappearance of pain.

“Okay, you can go crazy now”, she smiled at him, tightening the vise of her legs around his hips.

Fenris rose a brow at her and grinned. “My, such uncanny confidence…” He slid into her to the hilt, and sparks exploded throughout her entire being as he hit something _awesome_ inside. “Are you sure?”, he purred into her ear.

“Dammit, Fenris!”, she tried to catch her breath and shift beneath him, chasing that delightful friction again. “ _Move_ already!”

And he moved.

They both moved in any possible position they could come up with. Hawke had no idea she liked it rough, nor in so many different ways. And Fenris was more than happy to indulge her, obviously enjoying as much as she. He pulled her hair, bit her neck and her sensitive breasts, even spanked her ass. When she was on top, she choked him with both hands on his neck, and she felt it made him aroused even more. She nibbled his pointy elven ears, discovering a fantastic erogenous zone which she had mercilessly exploited. She slobbered at his fingers and bit them. She even slapped his face a few times. It was an erotic frenzy which they both reveled in, completely in sync.

 

After Maker-knows-how-many orgasms, they finally collapsed into a spent heap on what was left of the bed. Both the sheets and the mattress were scorched in many places, with soot leftovers, yet damp from melted ice which usually followed after the fire. The pillows were turned into a bunch of feathers scattered all around the bed. The headboard sported a huge crack in the middle.

Fenris laid on his back, with Hawke lying by his side, her arm thrown across his middle. Every single part of her body tingled with contentment.

“Wow”, she murmured, regaining normal breathing. “Sure you’ve never done this before?”

He grinned lazily. “Not that I remember of.”

“How ‘bout that… You’re a natural.”

“Right back at you”, he gave her a devious look. And then adopted a worried expression. “I hope I hadn’t hurt you.”

She chuckled. “My ass stings a bit, but that’s about it. It’s nice.”

He laughed out and landed his palm on his forehead. “ _Vissanime,_ I can’t believe we fucked so insanely… Whenever I imagined it, I thought it would be more…” He gestured vaguely with his hand, unable to pinpoint the expression.

“Conservative?”

He stopped for a moment, thinking. “Well…yes.”

She lifted herself to her elbows, focusing on him anew. “Sorry to disappoint, love. So…you were imagining it, hmm?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Marian, I’ve been wanting you for a very long time. Of course I imagined it…even when I didn’t wish to”, he frowned briefly. “But I’m happy now”, he directed a smile of utter bliss at her. She could barely recognize his face with it. It was more beautiful than anything. “I’m happy because you’re mine…and I’m not afraid now.”

Hawke’s heart swelled and seized. Her smile vanished.

Fenris’s expression followed suit and he sighed heavily. “ _A fasti._ I know that look.”

“Fenris, just…hear me out, okay? I need to ask for this. I need it. Just…promise me that you won’t die. You can leave me, even betray me, but just _don’t die._ Please. I’ll be able to live through anything except _that._ ”

He looked at her, eyes wide. After a few tense heartbeats, he scooped her into a firm embrace and kissed her deeply.

“You are crazy, woman.”

“Perhaps”, she shrugged.

He shook off. “Fine. I promise I won’t die. But the same goes for you”, his tone hardened.

She frowned, confused.

“We’re in this together, remember?”, he deliberately repeated her words.

Cracking a smile, she complied. “Yeah, okay. I promise as well.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Tevene:
> 
> Fasta insigni – accursed markings  
> Vossent oculi radient martyrum…ashante fulcur, quevent sin tenebris. – Your bright eyes shine at my torment…like flashes of lightning, dispersing the darkness.  
> Vissanime – by my soul  
> A fasti – fuck it


End file.
